


Orkish Delight

by BawdyBean, bookscorpion



Series: The World of Us [1]
Category: Shadowrun: Hong Kong, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blow Jobs, Complete, Crossover, Fandom Blind Friendly, Impact Play, M/M, Mild Blood, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-10-21 15:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 66,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion/pseuds/bookscorpion
Summary: As far as Geralt knew orks were extinct, yet two sat across the tavern from him. They would touch his life and one day Eskel's too, leaving a lasting impression that created a bond which spanned worlds.





	1. Orks, Implements, and A Witcher, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the collaboration between [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) and I. This work is a crossover between our worlds of Shadowrun and Witcher. Rhys is bookscorpion's wonderful OC who is featured with Duncan in the series [Changing of the Light](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266935).  
This series of fics takes place starting in the later chapters of my witcher fic [Finding Center](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039/chapters/44157295) (starting around Ch 17-18) continuing through its conclusion, and some ambiguous time during bookscorpion's [The Unconsenting Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234428/chapters/43142189).
> 
> There is NSFW art to accompany this chapter below the text!
> 
> Content notes for chapters in the end notes!

"I am told you are in dire need of a break from monster hunting. We can certainly offer that. You may end up bruised and beaten nonetheless, but I do promise you will enjoy yourself. If that is not to your liking, say so now. We won't think less of you."

Rhys sprawled on a chair, with Duncan kneeling next to him. He idly petted Duncan's ear while speaking but kept his eyes on Geralt. The witcher didn't seen entirely convinced by the idea of handing himself over. He had divested himself of his weapons readily enough but had stopped at his armor. Which wasn't so bad because he certainly was pleasant to look at. White hair in a ponytail, the balanced stance of an experienced fighter, padded vest and tight pants nicely accentuating his waist and ass. Golden cat's eyes marked him as different at first glance, just like their tusks and pointed ears did for Duncan and Rhys.

They had claimed a comfortable room on the second floor of the Rosemary and Thyme. A large bed was the main attraction although Rhys didn't plan on using it just yet.The light streaming in through the crown glass windows made the polished floorboards gleam and softened all edges. Only a little noise filtered up from the lively taproom below.

When he didn't get an answer right away, Rhys walked over to Geralt, circling him. One hand trailed over the witcher's leather clad forearm, only just touching. Under the smell of the leather and metal of the armor was was something different, a hint of herbs and the sting of chemicals. Unusual but not unpleasant. Rhys wondered how he'd smell without the armor. He stopped in front of Geralt, carefully invading his personal space.

"Well, what will it be, witcher?"

***

Geralt carefully weighed his options, balancing the risks against his desires. Dandelion had called it accurately when he said Geralt was pent up. In the end, curiosity won out over all.

"I can heal bruises in a day. I’m nearly a century old, the memory of a good night spent tied up by someone who shouldn’t exist and can leave a bruise. I find that… appealing."

The orks in the room with him shouldn’t exist anymore and that was just it. Maybe they were from another time or another place. The twitch in Geralt’s pants when he watched the light gleam off of the dull white of Rhys' tusks told him he did not care either. In a fight he was sure Duncan could take him any day, but something about the dynamic between the two told Geralt he should probably be more concerned about the less bulky one standing in front of him. Rhys seemed slender in comparison to Duncan and had the pale skin of a nobleman, a braid falling over his shoulder. He also had a nobleman's air of authority, used to having his wishes followed. There was magic there, Geralt's medallion vibrated gently against his chest.

Shifting on his feet, Geralt wasn’t nervous, not really. The way his cock was starting to pay attention to the situation in his pants was less than comfortable though. Reaching up he started to unbuckle the catches on his leather and chainmail vest, eyes never leaving those tusks. What would they feel like on his skin, he wondered?

Geralt could smell incense and a sort of spice he was unfamiliar with. He could also smell Rhys' arousal but the man seemed annoyingly calm and collected. Behind him, Duncan had started to fidget on his knees, searching and not finding a more comfortable position. His heart beat faster than Rhys', with excitement and a little fear. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what to do?" Geralt was being a bit of an ass and he knew it, he wanted to see how this guy would react.

***

Rhys was still standing very close and waited until he had Geralt full attention before smiling a slow, dangerous smile that showed his sharp fangs, almost as long as his tusks. The slight widening of Geralt's eyes was extremely satisfying. "You seem to be doing just fine on your own for now. Do continue."

He sat down again and watched Geralt undress while petting Duncan's neck. When Geralt was done, Rhys gave him another thorough inspection, starting with his back and working his way around. He traced the multitude of Geralt's scars, ran his palm over the stubble of the undercut, pushing Geralt's head down and trailed his fingers over Geralt's side to his chest, keeping away from the snarling wolf's head medallion. 

Rhys grabbed Geralt's ponytail and pulled, forcing his head back. "Unless I tell you otherwise, you will stand with your hand on your back and your legs apart. If you ever feel like you need to stop, say Novigrad. We will do the same." He reached between Geralt's legs, cupping his balls and slowly stroking his shaft until Geralt gave a first moan. A last pat to his balls and Rhys stood back. "Very nice. I think we will enjoy you. You can make yourself useful by undressing Duncan. Don't touch his cock, he hasn't earned that yet."

At a gesture from Rhys, Duncan stood up and took the stance Rhys had just explained to Geralt: legs spread, hands on his back and head bowed. He was a good bit taller than Geralt and much bulkier, with tusks that were more blunt, but probably still capable of slicing clean through skin and flesh. Even with his head bowed, the slant of his eyes caught Geralt's attention. A rare sight in these parts. He didn't look up when Geralt approached but took a deep breath, visible centering himself.

***

Trying to force the sensations Rhys had created in his body from his mind so he could focus on not screwing up the task at hand Geralt stilled. He took another deep breath in through his mouth and let it flow out his nose, along with his thoughts of how Rhys’ hand had felt in his hair. Letting go of the way the soothing whisper of his hand over Geralt’s stubble and the stinging yank on his ponytail reminded Geralt of the smooth pleasing flat and the sharp cutting edge of his sword.

Mouthing off earlier had been a mistake. Geralt had expected to be grabbed, manhandled, or worse. He had not expected to have his behavior outright ignored. Only when he had done what he was asked, by continuing what he had started out of sheer cockiness, did he get what he really wanted. Hands on his skin, fingers in his hair, and orders to follow. It was time to try being good and see what he could get.

Geralt’s hands loosened the ties on Duncan’s tunic, at the wrists and neck. Untucking it from those obscenely tight Nilfgaardian trousers, he slid his hands under it. Rhys had said not to touch Duncan’s cock, but he hadn’t mentioned Geralt couldn’t touch anything else. Unable to resist teasing this giant of a man, clearly already on edge by the sound of his heartbeat and the quick shallow depth of his breathing, Geralt mapped out Duncan’s muscles. Letting his sword-calloused hands run over his abdomen and chest, Geralt lifted Duncan’s tunic from him.

Putting on a show for Rhys, Geralt slowly went down to his knees on the time worn floor, face coming level with the prominent bulge in Duncan’s sleek black trousers. Geralt wanted desperately to glance at Rhys and see if his plan was working but he didn’t dare. Placing his hands on Duncan’s solid thighs for balance, Geralt leaned forward and pulled at the strings of the trousers with his teeth, ever careful not to touch Duncan’s cock, even through the fabric. After several meticulous tugs the strings were loose and Geralt dipped his fingers in the edge of the waist band. Tipping his head down and to the side his hands glided over Duncan’s ass pushing the trousers down, freeing his cock; Geralt skimmed the back of Duncan’s thighs, shimmying the tight trousers to the floor.

Geralt sat back on his heels for only a moment taking in the sight before him. All smooth muscle and deep olive skin, immense thighs, and the wide shaft of Duncan’s cock. Waiting as patiently as he could while the man in front of him stepped out of the pile of clothes at his feet and folded them. Then Geralt stood up, moving beside Duncan, lowered his head, placed his hands on his back and spread his legs. Almost like when he meditated, the buzz in Geralt’s mind from putting on such a show slowed, but the ache in his balls would not settle.

***

Rhys pushed Geralt's head up with two fingers under his chin and gave him another smile, showing off his fangs. "Nicely done."

He turned to Duncan and got close but not close enough to touch except for his fingers running through Duncan's mohawk. "If you behave yourself, I might let you fuck the witcher. Would you like that?"

Duncan's breath caught in his throat as he answered. "Yes, Sir. I'll try to please you."

"Mhm, I'm sure you will. You can start by getting on your knees again and sucking his cock. Use your mouth only." Rhys allowed Duncan a cushion and watched him kneel, looking up at Geralt for a moment, before taking his cock into his mouth. The shiver that ran over Geralt as he did it made Rhys smile and he stopped to take in the sight a bit longer. Duncan licked and sucked on the tip of Geralt's cock, then took him deeper before coming up for air again.

Geralt was quivering, moaning quietly, and Rhys stepped behind him. He took a rope from his pack under the bed, pulled Geralt's arms closer together on his back. Starting to wind the rope around them in a pattern interspersed by knots, Rhys listened to the breathing of both men growing heavier. When he was done, he admired the way the rope made the muscles of Geralt's arms and back stand out. The man was delicious. Rhys hugged Geralt from behind, ground his own cock against him, pushing Geralt's deeper into Duncan's mouth. 

"You've probably noticed by now that Duncan doesn't like taking a cock too deep. One of his many failings. You can help me teach him. Fuck his mouth, as hard as you can. You may come if you want to. Depending on how you perform, it might be the only time you're allowed today." Rhys spoke directly into Geralt's ear in a low whisper and gave his earlobe a sharp nip with his fang when he was finished. He let go and sat on the bed to watch. 

Duncan had his eyes closed, resigned to his fate. His cock was hard, twitching with every heart beat, the tip glistening with precum. Seeing him so needy was exactly what Rhys wanted. The encounter with Geralt had been a stroke of luck he intended to put to good use.

***

The cock grinding against his naked ass, the warm wet mouth around his own cock, the spit-slicked smoothly pointed tusks on either side as his cock was forced further in, all of it made Geralt’s mind reel. The smallest pinch of Rhys’ fang on his ear, telling him to use Duncan - no help Duncan learn for him. Even better, he had permission to come. And he wanted to come, wanted to sink in between those gleaming tusks and feel Duncan take it all from him willingly, to please Rhys.

Letting his shoulders relax, arms cradled by the ropes, Geralt stretched his fingers making sure nothing was tight enough to create a problem later. He sighed and leaned his hips into Duncan’s mouth testing the depth, sensing the tightness in Duncan’s throat before pulling out and taking a step forward.

"Gods, I fucking love your tusks next to my cock," Geralt ground out as he thrust his hips forward quickly this time. He could sense the trepidation in Duncan, his heartbeat quickening, muscles tightening minutely at the impending intrusion. Setting a fast rhythm, feeling the head of his cock bump the back of Duncan’s throat on each pass, Geralt encouraged him, "Gonna be a good boy for him aren’t you? Come on, relax your throat," Geralt thrust just a tad harder against Duncan’s resistance.

Duncan’s mouth was wet and sloppy around him, as Geralt forced his cock all the way in. "Such a good boy for Rhys. You wanna fuck my ass don’t you? You have to be good then, take it all." He let himself stay still in Duncan’s throat for two heartbeats, three. The acrid smell of panic rose in the air. Geralt drew his hips back and resumed his previous fast rhythm, deeper this time. Dipping into Duncan’s throat with every thrust. It felt like a warm fluttery glove, squeezing his cock with each stroke and Geralt was quickly approaching his orgasm.

"Gods your mouth is good. I bet he loves it." Geralt paused deep in Duncan’s throat again, glorying in the feel of it. Two heartbeats, three. Pulling out and thrusting again. "You can take it, such a good boy for him. Are you gonna swallow everything I give you too? Earn your reward?" The smell of Duncan’s dripping arousal swirled with Rhys’ in Geralt’s nose. The thought of Duncan getting his reward and the way his thick cock would feel stretching out Geralt’s ass sent him over the edge. Hips held flush against Duncan’s face, balls pressed against those glorious tusks, Geralt went rigid. Two heartbeats, three. Four. Then he was spilling down Duncan’s throat with a low feral groan.

***

Rhys watched them from the bed, relishing Duncan's fear and Geralt's eagerness. He unfocused and slipped into astral sight when Geralt pushed his cock down Duncan's throat. Their auras had begun to intertwine, melting into each other. Lighting patterns of coral red lust flashed in Geralt's, burning themselves into the gold of the witcher's normal aura.

Duncan's fear and panic bloomed in inky purple stains, almost drowning out the red when Geralt forced him to take his cock and didn't draw back immediately. But the red didn't go away, it kept surfacing in broad strokes like the back of a whale breaching the water. Geralt's praise coaxed it to the surface and kept it there even when he came and Duncan tried in vain to swallow around his cock.

Geralt pulled back and Rhys switched to normal sight just in time to see Duncan leaning forward and licking at Geralt's cock and balls, cleaning them of cum and spit. Duncan had drooled all over himself and had to stop licking a few times to cough hoarsely. When he was done, he looked up at Geralt. "Thank you." His voice was rough, both from the now quickly subsiding panic and the throat fuck he just received.

Walking over to them, Rhys petted Duncan's hair. "You did very well. Go clean yourself up, drink something. Peel the ginger for me, please. When you're done, kneel on the cushion again." The way he placed it after Duncan got up would allow Duncan a good view of the bed. With a deep kiss, he let Duncan go, tasting Geralt's cum on his lips.

He turned to Geralt, checked on the rope. Finding everything still loose enough to not cause pain or damage, he turned Geralt around to face him and gave him a bite to the throat, pressing down with tusks and fangs. He growled deep in his throat, breathing in the scent of leather and sweat. The tang of chemicals was still there, mixed with the sweat. 

When he let go, there were red marks on Geralt's neck. "You have talent. I enjoyed watching you."

"Thank you, Sir." Geralt had been paying attention and Rhys rewarded him with a smile. He also took note that the rumours about the stamina of witchers were apparently based on facts. Duncan was busy with the ginger and its sharp smell filled the room. 

Rhys' fingers wandered up Geralt's chest, flicked against his nipples, thumbing over them. "You get to choose how we continue. Well, part of it." Spreading a cane, a riding crop and a belt on the bed, he invite Geralt to step closer with a gesture. "Take your pick."

***

The buzz of his orgasm had lingered in Geralt’s veins as Rhys’ words floated past. He had swayed on his feet slightly with the tug and pull of Rhys checking his bindings. When he was turned about face though, tusks and fangs clamping down on his neck to create a deep ache without piercing his skin, Geralt pulled his focus back to Rhys to hear his praise.

The smell of ginger made Geralt’s nose itch. He looked over the items that had been laid out on the bed for him to choose from. The sight of the leather made Geralt flinch, bringing with it unpleasant memories. No. He wanted to feel tonight, not endure. Rhys had given him a choice. A reward of his own for helping Duncan? Maybe. Both the belt and the crop were leather and would sour his mood, but the thin cane… 

"The cane." Geralt was glad his voice came out clear because he was still feeling a little disoriented. Then he remembered he had a question. "Why do I smell ginger ?"

"The part you don’t get a choice in. As a witcher you have a dulled sense of pain. In order to ensure that you properly appreciate the sensations I give you, Duncan is preparing some ginger for you." Rhys had leaned in close to Geralt, speaking candidly. The corners of his mouth pulled into the beginning of a grin. He waited for understanding to sink in for the witcher.

The proximity to his neck made Geralt wonder if the marks of the bite had already faded or not. He wished they wouldn’t. Geralt looked at Rhys trying to understand how a root he knew helped with nausea, dizziness and a myriad of other things would help him feel this more.

"Are you planning on making me nauseous?" Geralt asked half jokingly. Gods he hoped not, but it was better than the alternative he could think of- ginger on an open wound. He didn’t desire to be outright tortured. That had happened plenty enough before, but Dandelion had vouched for these two so Geralt was certain that wasn’t where this was headed.

Rhys’ lips broke open into a full grin, fangs on full display. "Have you truly never experienced this before, witcher?"

"Uh, I guess not?" Geralt replied confused, but more concerned than a moment ago. Rhys’ grin was almost feral and for a moment he wondered if Dandelion had misjudged him.

"Allow me to explain," Rhys took a finger of ginger from Duncan, who promptly assumed his place on his knees at the foot of the bed. "This," Rhys held the freshly pared piece aloft for Geralt to see, "has been peeled to allow the ginger juice to produce its irritant. Duncan has shaped it nicely with a notch here, see? So it cannot slip in too far, you cannot push it out either."

Geralt’s jaw went slack with realization as Rhys pointed out all the features of the tiny piece of ginger. It was small, he rationalised, compared to Duncan, to what he had taken of others, but even such a small amount of ginger would burn fiercely because Rhys intended to put it in his _ass_. Oh Gods. Oh fucking Gods. His ass would be on fire.

"-knees. Bend over the bed." Geralt caught only the last part of the order, he’d been so wound up in his head. There was no choice in this part. He had been able to choose not to use leather, he couldn’t turn this down though, not without at least trying. His face felt hot as he dropped to his knees next to the bed and fell forward onto it. The blanket was cool on his cheek. Counting his breaths in and out he tried to settle.

In, out. In, out. Where was Rhys? Geralt couldn’t hear anyone moving, but he honed in on the orks’ breathing. Even with his eyes closed he knew Duncan was still kneeling on his pillow. Rhys was just… waiting. Why did he make him wait? Geralt hated that. Then a gentle hand ran over the cheek of his ass.

"You are being so good for me." Rhys’ words worked their way into Geralt’s head. His focus shifted to listen to Rhys’ breathing instead of his own, but his eyes remained closed against it all. It took all Geralt’s concentration not to tense up when Rhys spread him open. Instead he laid chest supported by the bed, face turned the side, knees on the hard wooden floor, sensitive hole exposed to Rhys. 

The roughness of the ginger as it made its home was different. It wasn’t smooth like a man, and Geralt noticed each bump and knob as it went it. He realized then that he was holding his breath waiting for the flames to lick his insides but they weren’t. Not yet at least. Softly letting his air out, Geralt relaxed onto the bed, into his ropes. His hole itched around the ginger. A low moan escaped his lips at the feeling. The longer it sat inside him the more intense it got, the itch turned to a sting.

Geralt shifted on the bed trying to get comfortable. Rhys was waiting again, he knew it. Watching him squirm as the sting built. Geralt wished he would take it out and let Duncan fuck him now. There was still the cane though, so he knew he needed to wait for Duncan’s cock. At least Rhys could take out the ginger now, its job of irritating his tender lining done. Geralt was sweating, the sting had intensified to a low burn now.

***

"Yes, I think this will do nicely," Rhys stared at Geralt trying not to writhe on the bed with a wicked grin. Duncan couldn't help but be relieved that the grin was aimed at someone else for a change. When Rhys came over to him, Duncan leaned against his leg and had his hair scritched while they both watched Geralt squirm.

"Get him into position for me. You can play with him a bit." Rhys gave Duncan a last affectionate pat and went to undress. 

Duncan hunkered down behind Geralt and let his fingertips wander over Geralt's calves, up his thighs to his ass. He gave a little tug on the ginger, made Geralt moan. With a wicked grin of his own, he pulled it halfway out. The tension went out of Geralt and came right back when Duncan pressed the ginger into him again.

"What, did you think you were done with this already?" He stood and grabbed Geralt in a bear hug, pulled him upright, held tightly to his chest. "You're not. Not for a while." Geralt's skin was warm, wet with sweat, and Duncan licked his neck. He tasted salt and something metallic that was unfamiliar but interesting. Chasing the taste, he licked and nibbled at Geralt's neck and shoulders. Geralt went limp in his arms, let himself be held. His breathing and heart beat slowed and Duncan adjusted his grip to take more of Geralt's weight, taking care not to squeeze too hard. 

He looked over at Rhys who gave him permission with a gesture to take his time. So he let Geralt enjoy the embrace for a bit longer, slowly grinding his cock against him. There were a few scars there that his shaft rubbed over and Duncan shuddered with want. 

A hard bite to the shoulder served to wake Geralt from his daze and Duncan immediately pushed him forward a few steps into the middle of the room. He let go and grabbed Geralt's neck instead, forcing him to bend over. "Stay like this."

Duncan circled Geralt, correcting his posture with a few light shoves, not enough to unbalance him. "Spread your legs. Wider." Slipping a hand between Geralt's legs from behind, he gave the ginger another push and Geralt's balls a tug. "Back straight. Keep your head down. If Rhys wants you to look up, he'll tell you."

When Geralt was doing everything to satisfaction, Duncan held onto the ropes binding his arms, took some of his weight. With his free hand, he gently petted Geralt's neck, traced circles in the stubble of his undercut. 

Rhys had been watching, stroking himself lazily. Now he stepped behind Geralt and picked up the cane. The tip of it wandered up the inside of Geralt's leg and a little gasp told Duncan it had tapped Geralt's balls. He watched, his heart beating almost as rapidly as if he were the one being caned. It was the first time he had ever seen Rhys doing it. The concentration on Rhys' face and the precise force of his movement as he brought down the cane on Geralt's ass were delicious.

Geralt went rigid under Duncan's hand, all air leaving his lungs with a wheeze. His head snapped up, eyes so wide Duncan could see the white in them. Rhys gave him time to savour the pain and the burn of the ginger. Finally, Geralt remembered that he wasn't supposed to look up and bowed his head again, settled back into the position Duncan has put him in. A slight shiver ran over him and Duncan ran his thumb up the nape of his neck, a little encouragement before the next cane strokes landed, hard and fast, each as loud as the crack of a whip.

***

The cane was a cruel tease. Creeping up the inside of his sensitive thighs, greeting Geralt’s balls with a tap. The acceleration of Duncan’s heartbeat belied its intent but not its bite. Geralt heard the cane moving through the air just before he felt it hit his ass. It was so much more solid that leather, making his ass vibrate with the strike. It stung and he clenched his cheeks involuntarily trying to force the sensation away, to prepare for the next strike- a terrible mistake.

The sting of the cane was nothing compared to the inferno inside him. Every muscle in his body strained against it, neck stretched and nostrils flared. Fuck. Dropping his head back down Geralt tried desperately to let go. Relax. Go back to where he had been when he was surrounded by Duncan’s arms. Breathe. _Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._ Duncan’s thumb was rubbing the back of his neck, if he could just remember to breathe. Ruffling through his undercut soothingly, grounding him. Reassuring. A deep ache was building. 

A pause. 

Geralt settled on the feeling of the ache and Duncan playing with his hair, willing the sounds of Rhys walking out of his mind. Then the cane whistled down across the back of his thighs. That was untouched territory and the sting was… good. A new ache to add to the others. Several more strokes fell, each one right below the previous. Beautiful little lines of pain. Geralt didn’t know how many, he wasn't counting, only feeling. 

The tip of the cane traced up one leg, lightly over the welts making the air rush out of Geralt. Inside his thigh and forward past his balls, the tip traveled, the cane brushing up along the length of his throbbing cock. Geralt hadn’t even been aware of how hard he was until the cane visited it. Gods, he was probably dripping on the floor. He felt hot all over and yet cold at the same time. 

"Does the pain arouse you?" Rhys voice echoed in Geralt’s ears for a moment. Before he could process whether it was a question and he was required to answer, the cane retreated only to come down hard on his ass. "I asked you a question. You will answer me, witcher." His ass stung where the cane had landed over the top of the other welts. Geralt tried to gather his senses and answer coherently. Correctly.

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes Sir what? You did not answer my question, witcher. Do not make me repeat myself." Another blow landed on Geralt’s abused ass, the sting radiating out. Geralt’s cock trembled. Fuck. He drew in a deep breath trying to inhale his shame.

"Yes, Sir. I like the pain, it makes my cock hard. Please continue."

Forced to voice his dirtiest desires out loud and with Rhys probably grinning behind him, Geralt felt so small in that moment. He wanted the cane back, the pain back, something to distract him from it. Duncan’s thumb had stopped moving on his neck somewhere in all of this and Geralt wasn’t sure when. He had no reassurance and it was horrible.

***

Duncan froze, watching Rhys. He didn't even dare to breathe loud. Impatience built into cold anger on Rhys' face and it was every bit as terrifying as if Duncan had been on the receiving end of the cane. Even knowing that it was all play didn't make it any less frightening.

Geralt had gone very still next to him, with only the slightest quiver in his muscles. A blush rose from his shoulders up his neck and presumably into his face, but Duncan couldn't see.

With two fast steps, Rhys was in front of Geralt, fisting into his hair and pulling his head back. He went down on one knee so he could look into Geralt's eyes. "Continue _what_?" His voice lashed out just as quickly as the cane and with an even harder bite. Duncan couldn't help but flinch. "Tell me, witcher. I'm losing patience. Ask me for what you want, right _now_."

***

Rhys’ was absolutely livid when Geralt’s head was hauled up to look him in the eye. He’d known he screwed up the moment Duncan went motionless, but he had no idea how he’d screwed up. What did Rhys want him to say, that he hadn’t admitted to already? The Trials had broken him and he liked pain? That he was even more strange and freakish than people believed a witcher to be? Might as well just lay it all out, give them their chance to save face and go now. Geralt was somewhat used to bad reactions to his sexual tastes after Yen, but he really thought he’d chosen better this time.

"I’m sorry," Geralt was shaking, he shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t but he did. Honesty was the best policy right? "I do like it when it hurts, I know that’s not normal. I want you to bite me, harder. I want you to continue hitting me, but I understand if you don't want to because you think I am a freak, Sir." Geralt swallowed, shoving down his fear that everything was over. Again. They’d either leave or not. It was up to Rhys now.

"Rhys?" That was Duncan and Geralt couldn't read his tone at all. He dropped his head when Rhys let go, heard him answer Duncan: "I know." They were going to leave, Geralt knew it. He just wanted it to be over.

***

_Fuck_ Duncan knew they had pushed too hard. Even without Geralt starting to shiver, he had heard it in his voice. "Rhys?"

"I know." Rhys took a deep breath. "Novigrad. Geralt, you are _not_ a freak. And I do want to continue playing. We should talk about some things first though." Carefully, he cupped Geralt's jaw and caressed his cheek. "We'll untie you and take the ginger out, is that alright?"

Geralt nodded silently and let them gently handle him, but wouldn't look at them. They ended up on the bed. Duncan gently touched him and when Geralt didn't move away, even leaned into the touch a little, he hugged him from behind, Geralt's back against his chest.

Rhys reached out for a quick touch to Geralt's arm. ''I'm sorry for pushing so hard. Liking pain doesn't make you broken, it really doesn't. Believe me, I've been around - a surprising amount of people enjoy it during sex. You're not alone in this and you're not a freak." 

"I didn't know I did or at least how much I did until I met Rhys.'"Duncan gave Geralt a gentle squeeze. "He's done worse to me than a caning and I've enjoyed it. Even though it was really strange to me at first. Handing myself over like that." He shrugged, not happy with his explanation but not able to find better words right now.

***

Eyes still closed, leaning back into Duncan, Geralt sighed, "It’s only strange when someone questions me about it. I _need_ to give myself over like that, that doesn’t bother me. It’s the only way to get what I want." Geralt paused to gather his thoughts, he really didn’t like talking about this but he needed to explain what went wrong for this to work.

Opening his eyes Geralt looked at Rhys and wondered if a little bit of Yen sat inside of the ork. He’d barely touched Geralt, where Duncan held him in a full embrace, a physical statement that Duncan didn’t want Geralt to run away from this. Rhys though, was far less readable. Geralt noticed for the first time the intricate tattoos covering Rhys’ body. Both arms were completely filled with… art. All the way up the sides of his neck, some even peeked around the sides of his ribcage. Geralt wondered what would happen if he reached out to touch Rhys, would he flinch away? Or did he really mean what he said about not thinking Geralt was a freak? He was with Duncan after all.

Testing Rhys’ honesty Geralt reached out and ran his hand over a design on his forearm, a sea creature or a flower, an underwater flower maybe? Rhys didn’t shudder under his touch. To Geralt’s shock, instead Rhys covered his hand with his own holding it there, warm and comforting. Geralt looked up at Rhys, eyes wide with surprise at the action, and saw relief on Rhys’ face.

"I’m not used to anyone pointing out that I get off on pain," Geralt could explain this now, "Alright, that’s not entirely true." He sighed and thought of Yen’s poking and prodding. Her relentless teasing, how she never knew when to let things rest. "There is a person I have enjoyed some of this with before, off and on, and they don’t really know when to let it go. They have a habit of making fun of what I like. Even when we aren’t doing anything." Geralt closed his eyes and pulled his hand back, retreating into Duncan’s hold again. "And, well, a quick rough bar fuck or a whorehouse doesn’t really ask questions."

"I guess what I am saying is if we want to continue, which I do, then humiliating me about what I like is off limits, because I can’t handle that." And that alone was a revelation for Geralt. That there were things in the world that could bring the witcher to his knees. Not pain, but emotions. Something everyone claimed a witcher couldn’t have.  
"Sorry, I didn’t even realize this was a problem for me, but it is."

***

Duncan shrugged, his muscles moving against Geralt's back. "It happens. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I have no problem not pointing it out. We're here to enjoy ourselves and I want you to be comfortable," a grin showed off Rhys' fangs, "even if it doesn't look like it when I'm torturing you." He came forward until he was nuzzling Geralt's neck, his hands trailing over Geralt's sides. Kept at it until Geralt's pulse had evened out and he had started to respond to the touches with quiet noises.

'Do you want to continue? It's fine if you don't, we can take this up again later? We'll be here for a couple of days more." Rhys didn't look up, spoke against Geralt's shoulder.

"No, I want to-," Geralt lost his voice mid-sentence when Rhys found a sensitive spot under his ear. "Please, keep going-" He turned his head to offer his neck to Rhys.

Rhys moved back and Geralt gave a little disappointed whine that turned into a gasp when Duncan tightened his grip. With very little effort, Duncan pulled Geralt up until he was kneeling upright on the bed, his arms on his back, wrists in Duncan's grasp. Duncan's free hand curled in Geralt's hair, forcing his head back, exposing his throat for Rhys to bite.

With a growl, Rhys nipped at the skin of Geralt's neck, working his way down to Geralt's chest. There, he drew blood with a sharp bite. He watched it well up and spill from the marks left by his fangs, licked up a few drops. It had the same chemical tang he had noticed in Geralt's smell. Hearing Geralt moan, Rhys set out to leave a pattern of marks. After a while, puncture wounds were grouped together in a pleasing design around Geralt's nipples and down his stomach. Rhys stopped to admire his work.

***

The rivulets of blood almost tickled Geralt’s skin, warm and wet trickling downward before Rhys lapped them up with a soothing broad tongue. The sweet contrast between that heat and the sharp pain of the next bite each time kept driving Geralt higher. He wanted to wiggle into it, to struggle, but Duncan’s grip was solid rock- better than any ropes he’d ever encountered.

Head pulled to the side by Duncan’s grip in his hair, Geralt’s gaze was drawn again to Rhys, to the scrolling inks on his skin, to his hair. His blue-black hair was pulled tightly back and intricately twisted into a plait that started at the crown of his head, strands pulled into it from each side as it went down to his nape. The plait continued down his back, laying along his spine, resting among the tattoos there.

Geralt was fascinated by them, and the more Rhys bit him—drawing his blood, pulling his arousal higher—the more Geralt became enthralled by them. Rhys’ entire back was covered in nature. It reminded Geralt of Skellige, the ground morphing into a flowering vine winding up the side. A large caterpillar crept up the vine, a cocoon hung from one of its leaves. Over there, a moth with broad delicate wings. Pain seared into Geralt’s chest again and a deep guttural moan rumbled from his throat, drawing his hip up in a thrust. The shells of sea creatures were scattered around the edges, a stinging jellyfish swam along the perimeter, and in the center of it all walked a giant bear, aloof to its surroundings.

They came alive with the movement of the muscles of Rhys’ back. Small needy noises filled Geralt’s ears, but he failed to recognize them as his own, his hips thrusting abortively into the air, wishing they could reach Rhys. Geralt’s cock desperately ached for contact, but the denial was almost as good. And Gods Rhys was biting him and he wasn’t having to wait and it was everything he wanted. He swore the bear moved on Rhys’ back but it must have been a trick of the light, of his lust.

***

The wounds had already stopped bleeding and Rhys traced the pattern he had created. He embraced Geralt, taking his wrists out of Duncan's grasp into his own, and lay back slowly, pulling Geralt on top of him.

"Get the oil, please? And you," he nudged Geralt, "get your ass up for Duncan so he can prepare you." He pushed Geralt's legs apart with his own and let go of his wrists so he had both hands to run his palms all over Geralt's body, tracing his scars, fisting into his hair. 

Geralt took some of his weight off of him but tried to maintain as much contact as possible, nestling into Rhys' chest. He gave a loud moan when Duncan pushed into him, working him open slowly and carefully. Duncan took his time, teased Geralt until he was shuddering and flinching at the slightest touch in Rhys' arms.

Rhys pulled Geralt's head up, kept pulling until Geralt was on all fours. He wriggled out from under him until Geralt was between his legs. "This is how this will go: you get to suck my cock. You can have Duncan's cock in your ass while you do it, but he only gets to play rough with you once you've made me come. Do you think you can do that?" With slow movements, Rhys stroked himself, showing himself off for Geralt.

***

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat, then another. He’d gone from being putty against Rhys’ chest to being unwaveringly interested in the ork’s cock. So much was on offer and he wanted it all. A thick cock in his ass, another in his throat. The tempting promise of rough play. And he could have it all, if he could just manage to be good. Rhys had let go of his hands though, and that was dangerous. Not in a bad way- exactly. It was so much harder to control his own impulses though when he wasn’t held down or tied up, and Geralt didn’t trust himself not to fuck it up. He genuinely wished they would take the responsibility of his hands from him. Save him from himself there.

The fingers in his ass stretched him as much as any cock and Geralt couldn’t help the lust addled noises that burbled from his mouth. Rhys sat in front of him, delectable as any feast he’d ever attended. Pale fingers worked up and down his shaft, inviting Geralt in. Forefinger drawing a lazy circle around the head as Rhys watched him closely. Geralt’s mouth watered. Rocking forward on his arms he traced the pattern of Rhys’ finger with his tongue, carefully looking up at him through his eyelashes. Geralt closed his eyes and slide his mouth down until Rhys nudged at his throat. It was heaven, warm and heavy in his mouth. Drawing back once he surged down again, wet, messy, and sloppy, swallowing around Rhys until his nose was nuzzled against smooth skin just above his cock. 

Geralt worked his throat, breathing through his nose, determined to show Rhys how good he could be. He whined at the loss of the fingers exploring his sensitive ass. The ginger had mostly cooled off but his tender insides still felt overwhelmingly aroused. Every touch was magnified twofold. Geralt started to pull up and with Rhys’ cock halfway out of his mouth Duncan edged his own past Geralt’s tight ring. It was impossibly wide, causing Geralt to lose his concentration for a moment. A reassuring hand on the small of his back urged him on and he resumed. Sucking Rhys up to the tip and sliding him back down his throat, Geralt worked up a quick rhythm.

Every time Geralt drew back sucking Rhys clean, he pushed himself further back onto Duncan’s impressive girth. Duncan followed him forward with each dive down on Rhys’ cock, not giving up any territory. Moans rumbled from Geralt’s chest around Rhys cock, making it jump satisfyingly in his throat. Geralt’s hands wandered forward of their own regard, coming to rest on Rhys’ thighs, sliding up them, but Rhys said nothing.

Licking from tip to base, Geralt’s tongue laved at Rhys’ balls. What would Rhys’ taste like? Gods he wanted to know. Not now though, he had a job to do. Rolling his tongue around once and opening his mouth wide Geralt drew it into his mouth, pulling it away just enough to hear a tiny gasp from Rhys. Perfect. Geralt let Rhys’ ball drop from his mouth and licked up his shaft again, swallowing him down. His hands continued their exploration, dipping into the crook between thigh and groin. Thumbs delving behind Rhys’ sac.

Geralt’s head snapped sharply up, Rhys’ cock popping out of his mouth with a wet sound. "Witcher, do you want Duncan to be rough with you?" Rhys had already let go of his hair, depriving him of the sharp pain he craved, leaving his head feeling strangely unsupported midair. "Did I give you permission to use your hands to make me come?"

Fuck! This is why he wished Duncan would hold his arms. "Answer me, Witcher!" Rhys looked angry, and Geralt _did_ want Duncan to fuck him roughly. Gods how he wanted it. He needed to answer to Rhys for his bad behavior.

“No, you did not. I am sorry I didn’t listen. It won’t happen again, Sir."

Geralt let out a breath, resting on his elbows he folded his arms together holding his elbows in his hands, a physical reminder to himself to be good. He sucked Rhys’ other ball into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, seeking out the hitch in his breath he’d heard earlier. When Geralt heard Rhys’ breathing speed up he moved back to fucking his mouth down on Rhys’ cock. Swallowing him all the way to the root, over and over again until Rhys was quivering under him. Drawing up, licking fast over the sensitive slit, before burying Rhys in his throat again. Geralt could feel Rhys’ balls tightening against his chin. 

Working his throat around Rhys’ cock, Geralt turned his head a little to the side to be able to look up into Rhys’ eyes. Letting Rhys see his vulnerability Geralt swallowed around him and waited for Rhys to fill him up. And Gods did he feel vulnerable right then, even not tied up, mouth full of cock, ass twitching around Duncan’s thickness. Because he was counting on Rhys to let him have what he needed.

***

Rhys had softly petted Geralt's hair, kept his hands busy with it. He had been perfectly content with letting Geralt do all the work so far and Geralt was _good_ at this. At reading Rhys' reactions and following them exactly to what Rhys wanted and needed.

Now, he tightened his fingers in Geralt's ponytail, already coming loose, strands slipping from it. The hair tickled on his thigh as he pushed Geralt down, held him and thrust upward into his mouth. His cock slid easily down Geralt's throat and Rhys moaned. He fell back, still forcing Geralt to remain in place, and stopped holding back.

Rutting wildly, Rhys didn't give any thought to Geralt's ability to breathe as he fucked his throat in long strokes, barely pulling back. The noises Geralt made, with no choice but to take whatever they wanted to do to him, were delicious - little breathless moans and whines, a helpless gagging when Rhys pushed too deep too fast. And they were not done with him yet.

Rhys didn't last much longer. The thought of getting to see Duncan play with Geralt pushed him over the edge, a wave of pleasure taking all control from him. Fisting roughly into Geralt's hair, he arched his back and with a last thrust, spilled cum down Geralt's throat. He let go, lay shuddering and gasping, wincing as Geralt licked him clean.

***

Duncan had kept still as much as possible and just watched. He knew he had to wait for permission to do more than keep Geralt in place for Rhys. Watching Rhys writhe and then go stiff under Geralt, falling back all soft and pliant. He loved seeing Rhys like this, no matter if he or someone else had been the cause for it.

His own cock was screaming for him to get to it and _fuck_ the witcher. He told it to shut up and wait and gasped involuntarily when Geralt moved back against him to let Rhys sit up.

At a glance from Rhys, he pulled Geralt up against his chest until the witcher was once again kneeling upright on the bed. Rhys looked very content and sated as he came to hug them both. He gave Geralt a gentle bite to the ear and Duncan a kiss. "You can play with him. Do whatever you like. You can come, but make sure he does, too." With another kiss and another bite, Rhys moved to curl up in one corner of the bed, leaning against the headboard.

Duncan growled, long and low, the sound vibrating in his chest. "You're mine now, witcher." He moved until he slipped out of Geralt, grabbed him and flipped him over on his back. Geralt landed hard enough to bounce on the mattress, hair finally spilling out of the ponytail completely.

With a pounce, Duncan was on top of him, forcing his legs apart. He guided his cock back in, pushing into Geralt's ass in one movement until their hips ground together. Geralt bucked under him with a gasp and Duncan leaned in to bite his lip, drawing blood. Duncan's weight kept Geralt pressed into the mattress while he gave more bites: to the shoulders, down the arms.

Scooping Geralt up with an arm around him, Duncan sat back up until he had Geralt in his lap, hands held fast behind his back. Geralt's own weight pushed Duncan's cock deep into his ass, his legs spread so wide around Duncan that he barely could support himself.

Duncan kept Geralt in a firm hold, moving him up and down on his cock. He did it as slowly as he could stand it, teasing Geralt and himself. The quiver of Geralt's muscles under his hands lured him into rougher and faster movements.

Geralt had his eyes closed and went limp in Duncan's grasp. With a snarl, Duncan gave him a push that threw Geralt on the mattress, his eyes flying open, slitted pupils wide.

Fingers digging into Geralt's hips, Duncan pulled him back into his lap, burying himself once again. He thrust into Geralt, pulling his hips up as he knelt. Geralt ended up with his back arched painfully high, only touching the bed with his head and shoulders and nothing to hold on to except the blankets. Duncan fucked into him in long thrusts, almost slipping out with each one, pulling Geralt against him.

***

The wet moans, gurgles, and gags coming from Geralt’s throat as he let Rhys fuck into his without abandon made him sound like a common brothel whore, he was sure. He didn’t care, he wanted to be used, and Rhys was doing a good job of it. Hand behind his head to keep him in his place, cock in his throat, Duncan in his ass holding him still. It was almost peaceful.

Rhys must have spilled down his throat and he must have swallowed it all because the next thing Geralt knew Duncan was hauling him upright on his knees, thick cock still stretching his ass wide. Rhys seemed so much softer, more pliant, as he embraced both of them. Nipping at Geralt’s ear, not really biting, telling Duncan he could have Geralt now. Geralt didn’t even really care that Rhys had said Duncan had to make him come. His cock was already jumping with anticipation even before Duncan growled in his ear.

There was no time for Geralt to process the loss of Duncan’s cock from his ass because hands were gripping him, flipping him, and he was bouncing on the bed like a sack of laundry. Duncan was on him in a flash, driving his wide cock back in, stretching Geralt all over again. Gasping at the feeling Geralt thrust his hips up, wanting to take more. Duncan’s mouth clashed with his, and Geralt moaned loudly when tusks tore at his lip. The urge to wiggle, to move, was tempered by the heavy weight of Duncan’s body covering him. Duncan continued biting his shoulders, down his arms, and Geralt’s cock throbbed between them with each blooming spot of pain.

Duncan manhandle him around like a doll and Geralt limply followed. His breathing was shallow and reedy when he was hauled back up to be fucked slowly at Duncan’s pleasure. Nothing around him mattered anymore, only Duncan’s hand on his wrists, arms like steel moving Geralt to his will.

Flopped onto the mattress again Geralt stared glassily up at Duncan. The ork looked almost feral, and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. Duncan’s grip on his hips was painful, pulling Geralt’s ass up into his lap so he could thrust into him again and again. A churning fire was building in Geralt’s gut, and every long thrust of Duncan’s cock stoked it further. Arms splayed out wildly, Geralt fisted the blankets trying to hold onto reality. This was good, this was so good. Duncan could break him if he tried, and it was frighteningly arousing.

Geralt wanted to touch something. Himself or someone else, he wasn’t really even sure. One hand left the blankets and grabbed at Duncan’s wrist, squeezing rhythmically with his thrusts.

A whispered, “Please Sir,” was all Geralt could manage. Mind addled with lust and narrowed down to the heat building deep in his groin. Geralt’s legs found each other behind Duncan’s waist and he locked his ankles trying to draw Duncan as deep as he could. 

Finding Duncan’s eyes with his own through his haze, Geralt repeated a little louder, “Please, Sir.”

***

Duncan broke Geralt's hold on him with ease, letting him fall on the bed. Geralt whined when Duncan pulled out of him and gasped when he was flipped over on his stomach. With all the restraint he could muster, Duncan savoured entering him again from behind, excruciatingly slow. He held Geralt down, kept him from moving. He couldn't keep him from tensing his muscles on purpose, squeezing his cock, and he didn't want to.

Drawing Geralt to himself with an arm around his chest, Duncan stretched out on top of him. He nuzzled the back of his neck, pushing hair out of the way, and bit down hard. Not hard enough to draw blood but he had searched for and found sensitive spots, put pressure on them. With a low growl, he started to fuck Geralt, tried for a slow rhythm.

His self control failed when Geralt begged him again in a breathless whisper. The words and the desperate tone cut right through the already badly frayed leash Duncan kept his strength and his viciousness on. He let go of Geralt's neck, crouched over him. Brutal thrusts pushed Geralt forward, into Duncan's grip on his shoulders. 

Geralt was gasping for breath, Duncan's weight forcing the air out of his lungs. It only served to make Duncan fuck into him harder, to hear his breath hitch and fail. Ruthlessly chasing his pleasure, Duncan didn't waste any thought on whether he might hurt Geralt. The witcher was pliable under him, yielding to his force. It poured oil on the fire of Duncan's aggression and lust until it consumed him, rushing over him. 

Rhys' hand in his hair was the next thing he knew, softly petting him. He still had Geralt clutched in his arms, still had his cock buried deep in him. With a loud moan, Duncan rolled over, let Rhys gather Geralt up in an embrace. Shuddering and twitching, he caught his breath, eyes half closed, his mind only slowly returning.

***

It wasn’t what Geralt wanted when Duncan broke away from him, knocking him loose and flipping him over onto his stomach. He couldn’t help the desperate whine that escaped his lips, he wanted to be touched, groped, _fucked_. It was a small reprieve when Duncan took him again, torturously slow. Teasing Geralt with his thick hard cock in his ass, hot mouth biting roughly just right at his neck. Deep growls reverberating through his spine down to his cock. Geralt couldn’t help but tease back, clenching his ass around Duncan, making no effort to control his whispered moaning. Begging with his body.

“Please give me what I need Sir,” it was barely a whisper coming out of Geralt’s mouth but it let something loose in Duncan.

The only thing that kept Geralt from sliding into the headboard was Duncan’s arm wrapped around his chest, gripping his shoulder as he fucked into Geralt mercilessly. It was pleasure and pain all wrapped up together. Geralt could hardly draw a whole breath before Duncan fucked it back out of him. His vision was blurry and he didn’t care, all he could smell was Duncan, clean skin and sweaty ork. All he could feel was that hulking body over him, taking him, owning him, keeping him there for Duncan’s pleasure. That was all he needed, for Duncan to not hold back.

It sounded like a rushing river in his ears, blotting out all other noise. Geralt’s vision had faded to sparkles. Maybe he’d closed his eyes he thought vaguely, although he didn’t remember doing that. Balls drawn tight up against his body, Duncan’s cock thrusting in and out of him with no concern for Geralt’s pleasure, he felt out of air. Ass throbbing around Duncan’s thickness Geralt’s orgasm rolled through him, shaking him to his core. His cum was slick between the bed and his belly as Duncan continued to fuck him right through it, oblivious to Geralt moaning weakly below him, seeking his own pleasure. Duncan’s release was warm and wet and comforting inside Geralt and he moaned louder at the feeling.

“Thank you Sir,” Geralt said, voice still breathy.

Geralt drifted, not able to open his eyes just yet. Feeling peaceful and sated under Duncan’s heavy weight. The ork laid over him like the warmest winter blanket and Geralt was soothed by the rise and fall of each of Duncan’s breaths. Too soon Duncan was rolling away, moaning loudly, taking his arms away from Geralt. He wanted to grasp at Duncan, tell him to stay, but he wasn’t up to that either. Then Rhys was gathering him up, drawing him into a deep hug of his own and Geralt simply followed. Allowing Rhys to hold him, card his fingers through his dishevelled hair, slowing straightening it out. The scent of cardamom filling Geralt’s nose as Rhys played his fingers lightly through his sparse chest hair. 

After a time Geralt became aware of the ache in his ass, the throbbing in his neck and around his nipples. He ignored it in favor of the soft touches from Rhys. It had been worth it. If he didn’t open his eyes yet he could enjoy it a while longer. Duncan was rousing behind him, Geralt could hear his breathing evening out, slowing down, returning to normal. He couldn’t have been happier when he felt Duncan’s broad muscled chest press up against his back. Yes, he would stay here for a little while, it was allowed to do that surely. These two wouldn’t mind.

***

Duncan rolled over to nestle into Geralt and Rhys, pulling a corner of the blanket over the wet spot left behind by Geralt. With Geralt between them, Duncan propped himself up on his elbow to be able to look at Rhys. Their hands met while they both petted Geralt, who was breathing deeply and didn't move except to move closer to Duncan with a sigh.

"You wore him out, I think." Rhys smiled at Duncan and ruffled through his mohawk before returning to caressing Geralt. "But he's fine, just out of it."

"Good." Duncan had worried but Rhys knew him well enough so he didn't have to ask. There was a long bloody scratch running down Rhys' thigh and Duncan frowned at it. "Wait, where did you get that?"

"When you threw me off the bed?" Rhys frowned right back at him. 

"I never threw you off the bed, what the fuck are you talking about?" Duncan was taken aback but there was this spark in Rhys' eyes that told him Rhys wasn't actually upset and he played along. He kept his voice down so not to wake Geralt.

"Oh, you were too busy fucking Geralt to notice, but you bounced me right of the bed when you threw him down. I didn't even know these mattresses _could_ bounce like that! Suddenly I'm on the floor, I'm bleeding out and what does the love of my life do? Fuck someone else! You really are unbelievable." Rhys still looked dead serious. 

It lasted for about one second more, then he snorted. "You were completely oblivious, didn't even notice me get up again."

Duncan groaned softly. "You are _never_ going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No. Never." Rhys grinned and gave Duncan's hand an encouraging pat. He looked down at Geralt. The whole conversation, held in a loud whisper, didn't seem to have woken him from his blissful half-sleep. "I was going to suggest getting something to eat and cleaning up, but it can wait, what do you think?"

Duncan leaned close for a kiss before flopping down again. "I'm in no hurry." He pulled Geralt to himself and Rhys followed until they were nestled into each other again, a tangle of limbs. Holding hands with Rhys on top of Geralt, listening to the soft sounds of the inn below and the city outside, Duncan slowly dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slightly odd writers of this fic do love feedback in all its forms, feel free to leave us a comment or kudos. We've had great fun writing it so we hope you enjoy reading our shameless witcher/ork smut! :)
> 
> ~BBean and bookscorpion
> 
> CONTENT NOTES: Safeword use, sub drop, biting, caning, mild blood, figging


	2. Do You Want to Come Out and Play Eskel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eskel sat up on Geralt's hips and stared into his eyes, voice rough with hunger and jealously. “What was so rare you just had to go and get fucked by it?”_  
A few years down the road Geralt finds himself wishing he could push the limits with Eskel and maybe, just maybe, be able to share a little of what he found so special about Duncan and Rhys with him. There is a fine line between jealously and good sex... can they manage it?  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a collaboration between [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) and I. This work is a crossover between our worlds of Shadowrun and Witcher. Rhys is bookscorpion's wonderful OC who is featured with Duncan in the series [Changing of the Light](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266935).  
This series of fics takes place starting in the later chapters of my witcher fic [Finding Center](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039/chapters/44157295) (starting around Ch 15-16) continuing through its conclusion, and some ambiguous time after bookscorpion's [The Unconsenting Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234428/chapters/43142189).  
We are thrilled you are joining us for the second chapter :) we have quite a bit more written and are working on more to come! Enjoy.
> 
> Content info for the chapter in the end note!

“I can’t believe you told Lambert you did fisstech,” Geralt traced his fingers up Eskel’s breastbone, “and that you slept with a succubus.” Geralt was lying on his side, head propped in his hand, elbow by Eskel’s head. His other hand explored Eskel’s chest lazily.

“Hmm, see you keep saying I told you guys that, but I jus’ don’t remember doin’ it.”  
“How else would I know?” Geralt leaned down and teased Eskel with a kiss.  
Eskel sighed, “Good point. Gods, I wish I remembered more of that night.”

“You were so drunk,” Geralt’s lips curved into a smile against Eskel’s, “we found you outside, half passed out on the flagstones. Lil’ Bleater licking your face.” He chuckled fondly at the memory of Eskel so helplessly blitzed. It was a rare occurrence.

Eskel lay on his back, fingers interlocked under his head, staring at the ceiling of their room in Corvo Bianco. Eyes drifting closed Eskel took every kiss Geralt gave him eagerly, hungry mouth pressing for more, but never moved his hands from under his head. Featherlight Geralt’s fingers on his chest slowly made their way down to Eskel’s belly. Eskel looked at Geralt, and Geralt stared back into his dark amber slitted pupils.

“I learned so much about you that night…” Geralt had, it was true. The fisstech revelation had been shocking to him. Eskel wasn’t one to mess around with his body, he treated it well. Geralt brought his hand up to brush it over the silky notch on Eskel’s lip. He knew it was sensitive and Eskel turned his head into the touch, “I can see you liking horns, you love pulling my hair, but I mean a succubus? You don’t even like women.”

Eskel groaned at the memory, being naked in bed with Geralt after along day probably didn’t help either, “Told you I liked the horns an’ she was strong. Bein’ female had nothin’ to do with it.” He nuzzled his mouth against Geralt’s palm. “’Sides you prolly drank to that succubus question too, knowing you. If it has two legs, looks like it can throw you around, and smiles in your direction you wanna fuck it.”

Geralt laughed, a low happy sound. Gods Eskel knew him so well and he didn’t care, “Of course I did, but you already knew that without needing to remember the answer. I like fucking women. Not like you would have learned anything if you had those memories.”

Eskel was such a possessive man but he did let Geralt wander. They never talked about what he did when he was with others though. Once, every winter Eskel would map out Geralt’s new scars and listen to the tale behind them. Then there had been Yen and the years apart. When their paths had inevitably intermingled again and it became clear to them both that they couldn’t keep going on alone, shouldn’t, Eskel had laid him down and reclaimed every inch of his body, every scar with his mouth. And Geralt had confessed them all but one… neatly spaced fang marks around his right nipple. It was not so much a secret between them as an unanswered question. Left hanging in the air, waiting for the right moment. Geralt couldn’t help but wonder if that moment could be now.

Could Eskel humor him now, more than ever before? “I shouldn’t judge, I’ve been fucked by rarer things than succubi.” Geralt tried to keep his voice calm, his heartbeat even, he knew Eskel was listening to it all. He held his breath waiting for the words to sink in, then realized Eskel would catch that too. Fuck, he was impossible sometimes.

Eskel deftly rolled him, catching his wrist and pinning it to the bed by his head. Geralt’s other hand ended up behind his head and he knew better than to move it. Eskel’s sat astride his waist, limp cock resting on Geralt’s own stiffening one, the sheets tangled around Geralt’s feet. Eskel lowered his face slowly and meticulously licked a line up the column of Geralt’s neck, pausing to whisper in his ear, “Been fucked by, huh? I thought I was the only one fucking you.” Eskel gripped Geralt’s hip painfully hard with his free hand for emphasis. Geralt swallowed hard, this felt good, very good. He was hoping for this reaction, it was what he was looking for. He whimpered and bit his lip.

“Tell me,” Eskel sat up on his hips and stared into his eyes, voice rough with hunger and jealously. “What was so rare you just _had_ to go and get fucked by it?”

“Them,” Geralt choked out, his cock throbbed under Eskel’s—he wanted Eskel to fuck him right now—Gods Eskel looked like he wanted to eat him alive, “there were two of them, when we were apart. They were orks.”

The sting caught him by complete surprise, Eskel’s open hand had landed hard across his nipple right over the scar, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I-” Geralt took a moment to think through his lust filled haze, “-I have the scars to prove it.” Eskel’s eyes went wide at that and his hand began rub over Geralt’s bite scar there. Then his eyes darkened again and he slapped the scar again, pinching Geralt’s nipple roughly.

Eskel leaned close to Geralt’s face, “Orks are extinct, Geralt.”

“Ooh, fuck. Eskel please.” Geralt arched his back off of the bed trying to get some relief, “Somewhere, someplace they are not, because these two exist I promise, and it was so good.”

Eskel released Geralt’s nipple grunting, and then his warm mouth was over it, licking skillfully, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bud. Teeth grazed over Rhys’ marks, and Geralt’s breath stopped for a moment. When it came back all he could manage was, “Fuck me please, Eskel. Please…”

The warm mouth left his chest cold and bare; Geralt’s nipple hardened when Eskel blew over it. Then he was adrift, Eskel was dismounting from his hips, letting go of his wrist, and it ached where Eskel had gripped it so hard.  
“Turn over.”

The rough words jarred him into action. Geralt flipped himself onto his stomach, moaning when Eskel spanked his ass hard. The sting stayed with him, warm and comforting. “Open your legs,” Gods that voice would be the death of him.

Geralt spread his legs wide one the bed. Eskel’s hand soothed the burn and then brought it back again, “I can’t believe you shared this.” The rhythmic smacking of Eskel’s hand on his ass rocked Geralt gently on the bed. Again and again, Geralt lost count floating in his haze. He was brought back by Eskel’s voice “This. Is mine.” Fingers trailed from his balls up the inside of his cleft, brushing lightly over his tight furl. So invasive and personal.

“Eskel…” Geralt moaned listlessly.

It was true, it was Eskel’s. Geralt had told him it was only for him. Eskel shifted, moving to kneel in between Geralt’s open legs. Cool hands ran over his hot cheeks and Geralt hiccuped trying to breathe through the sensation. Eskel was spreading them further apart and Geralt knew he was staring at him. “Do not come.”

Balling his hands in the sheet Geralt flinched when he felt something brush one of his sore ass cheeks, but then he exhaled softly when he realized it was only Eskel’s lips kissing it. His kisses turned to long licks over Geralt’s red skin. Mind unable to decide between the soothing wet and the irritation Geralt couldn’t focus. Without the buzzing flooding his mind Geralt became all too aware of his hard cock trapped between his body and the bed. Eskel had told him he couldn’t come; he was making him wait, Eskel knew he hated that.

Bathing every red inch of Geralt’s ass with his tongue until it was wet, Eskel dipped his head and spread Geralt wide to taste his furl. “Mine.”  
“FUCK. Please!” Geralt cried out. He couldn’t wait. He would never last if Eskel was going to do this.  
Eskel’s fingers circled tightly around the base of his balls giving a quick tug, stifling Geralt’s orgasm where it started, “No.”

“Fuck,” Geralt whimpered into the sheet. Breath heaving in his chest when Eskel’s tongue found him unerringly again. Licking him softly, starting out slow until Geralt’s body opened up for him. Then fucking his tongue into Geralt enthusiastically, nipping at his rim, lapping all the way down to his balls, sloppy, messy and wet. Eskel let go of his balls and lay over him. One hand on each side of Geralt’s head just inside where Geralt’s own fists were balled, hard cock nestled between Geralt’s sore cheeks. It hurt but it felt good all the same, he was finally going to get Eskel’s cock.

“Were they as good as me?”  
_Oh fuck. That was a trick question if ever one existed._ Eskel slid his cock up and down along Geralt’s cleft.  
“Unnha.” That hurt, Eskel’s hips were grinding into his ass and it brought all the pain back.

“That’s not an answer.” Eskel’s cock slid forward again, nudging at Geralt’s pucker, slipping past it. Geralt heard Eskel’s breath hitch, felt one hand lift from beside his head and then fingers were threading through his hair. A tease.

“Uhm. Maybe?” Oh he was so fucked and he knew it. Eskel leaned low and growled in his ear, thrusting quicker between Geralt’s cheeks for a few strokes and then slowing to a torturous pace.

“I’m gonna fuck this ass ‘til I come,” Eskel’s fingers played through his hair patiently, combing it up over Geralt’s head so he couldn’t see even if he turned his head, “all over it. You haven’t earned my cock tonight, teasing me like this. Trying to make me jealous. It worked.”

And Eskel kept his word. Took his time grinding his cock through the valley of Geralt’s cheeks, teasing his head against Geralt’s puckered entrance, smoothing his fingers over Geralt’s undercut as a counterpoint to the pain. Eskel pressed his hips into Geralt’s painful ass, thrusting between the two of them until he came with a grunt, sticky and hot all over Geralt’s lower back.

Later, after Eskel had washed his cum from Geralt’s back and applied a soothing ointment to his deep sunset red ass, Eskel had turned Geralt on his side and smiled at his still hard cock flush against his stomach. Running a finger up it made Geralt shiver and moan. And Geralt went willingly like a child’s doll when Eskel pulled him into his arms.

Lost in his own mind in Eskel’s comforting arms, Geralt’s cock ached and twitched trying to go down without finding its release. In the quiet of his head Geralt wondered why he had decided to tell Eskel about his scar now. He wished Eskel could meet them, could play with them like he did. It was such a release and he had learned so much. Not like Yen, or like whores or even tavern fucks he’d had over the years that had just met his needs. Rhys and Duncan had shown him it was something he could talk about, with the right people. With Eskel. He’d always kind of fell into this role with Eskel but learning that it didn’t make him a freak, hearing it from someone besides Eskel made him feel so much better about it. Once him and Eskel starting talking about what they wanted, things had gotten very good.

Sometimes in the past Eskel had worried about his own tastes too and Geralt knew that, had tried to assure him. Geralt wanted Eskel to meet these two and see that there were others like them. Experience this kind of release with someone else, tell Geralt all about it. Know that Geralt had too. And then he wanted Eskel to harness that jealousy and pound him into the bed like Geralt had tried to get him to tonight.

“Hey,” Eskel’s voice wormed its way into his thoughts, warm and sticky like fresh honey from the hive.  
“Hmm?” Was all Geralt was able to get out. At least his cock was giving up the fight he noted.

“You doin’ alright?” Eskel had thoroughly wrapped himself around Geralt. Leg thrown over Geralt’s thigh pulling his legs in, one arm under his neck and wrapped around his shoulder. The other hand was still combing through his silver hair above the blanket. When had Eskel covered them up?  
“I want you to meet them,” Geralt murmered.  
There was comfortable silence for several moments, Geralt was too lost in his head to be worried. “How ‘bout we talk about that in the morning?” Eskel said softly. He kissed Geralt’s lips.  
“Mhmm.” Geralt was fast falling asleep. He was too comfortable to stay awake. Eskel had said they would talk about it, that was enough.

The smell of fried pork, cheese, figs, and watered wine woke Geralt. He rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty. Mind flashing to the night before and his blissed out words Geralt had a moment of panic. The door creaked open and Eskel came in carrying a second tray of food, toeing the door closed with his boot. He set the food down on the bed next to Geralt. Geralt slowed his heart down, intentionally calming himself. Everything was fine, Eskel seemed content as ever.

“Morning,” Eskel leaned down to kiss him.  
“Hey,” Geralt replied with a smile.  
“How are you feelin’?”  
Geralt’s smile turned into a grin, “My ass is sore, how’s your hand?”  
“Never better,” Eskel deadpanned. He got out his shaving kit and heated a bowl of water, lathering soap on his face. “Eat your food and then we will talk.”

Swallowing Geralt decided to take Eskel’s ever present calm demeanor and the food as a good sign and dug in. He ate every bit of his breakfast while Eskel went through his meticulous shaving ritual. Expertly removing every sign of a whisker on his face, dodging his scars. When he was done he rinsed his face and removed the tray from the bed.

Sitting on the edge next to Geralt, Eskel settled his arm around Geralt’s shoulders, “So why did you tell me about the orks now?” His finger traced the scars around Geralt’s nipple.  
“I want you to meet them, see what I saw,” Geralt wasn’t looking at Eskel but Eskel’s fingers found his chin and changed that.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” Eskel said.  
“Do you really know that? You’ve never tried. And,” —put your foot in the water, you might as well take a swim—Geralt continued, “last night, I want that. I want your permission to let Duncan fuck my ass again, so you can reclaim it all over later.”  
“Oh? He has a name huh?” Eskel smirked. “An’ if I agree? Let you play my jealously like a chord?”

“Gods. It would mean so much to me.”  
Eskel paused for a moment to think about it, “An’ I could call a stop to it, if I decided it was too much for me? How would you even set this up?”  
“Of course you could! Hells they might call a stop to it if they thought it was too much for you. And I would talk to them, we would talk to them. Ahead of time. About what was and wasn’t okay.” Geralt caught the strange look that Eskel was giving him and added, “I have no idea how to get a hold of them, it was Dandelion that originally set me up, I am sure he can get back in touch with them.”

“I won’t say the idea of showin’ them that I’m better, that there’s a reason you’re with me an’ not them isn’t appealing to me.” Eskel growled low and deep in his throat, “Alright, you win.” His hand held Geralt’s throat with only a promise of force as he kissed him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
The Rosemary and Thyme hadn't changed all that much. The decor had gotten more plushy and Dandelion's cabaret drew a different crowd, but it was still a very good place to sit and drink in peace. Duncan and Rhys were doing just that, after catching up with Dandelion the day before.

"Think this is really such a good idea?" Duncan leaned against the wall, straddling the bench, watching the room from the corner they had chosen.

"We will see, I guess? It's not like we have agreed to anything. But at the very least we get to spend an evening with Geralt. And I'm very curious about Eskel." Rhys took a sip of his Mahakaman mead and reached over the table for Duncan's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Mhm. Sounds like he's good for Geralt, from what Dandelion says." Duncan's words carried a distinct undertone of _he better be_.

With a smile, Rhys nodded towards Geralt who was pushing his way through the tap room, with a dark-haird man in tow Rhys assumed to be Eskel. "There they are, you can judge for yourself." The many scars crossing Eskel's face were striking. He was shorter and more stockily built than Geralt but just as light on his feet.

Rhys got up and pulled Geralt into a hug. "It's good to see you again!" A few more scars there, but the smell was still as Rhys remembered it, with that strange chemical tang. It was the same smell he caught from Eskel when he turned to him to introduce himself. Behind him, Duncan took Geralt in a bear hug that would probably have cracked a few ribs with a normal human and then greeted Eskel warmly but with much more restraint.

"Come, sit with us." Rhys waved at their table and they sat, orks on one side, witchers on the other. Beer and talk about what had happened since they last saw each other took the awkwardness away, with Eskel first being very quiet and then coming out of his shell. Rhys took note of Geralt holding Eskel's hand and how it seemed to give Eskel confidence.

Some time and drinks later, Eskel and Geralt were recounting a chance meeting on the Path between them, laughing about how they had distracted each other so much that Geralt's dinner had caught fire. Rhys shared a glance with Duncan - it was clear that the two witchers were very comfortable with each other and Duncan just as clearly had no more misgivings about Eskel.

"So, you're thinking about playing with us?" Duncan took a lull in the conversation as a signal to get down to business. "We're up for that but we should talk this through."

***

A firm squeeze from Geralt on his hand reassured Eskel that any answer he had was alright. Eskel pulled his fingers out of Geralt’s hand and scooted back on the bench until his back hit the wall. Leaning against it and taking his Kaedweni Stout in his hand he put his legs in Geralt’s lap, crossing his ankles. Thank the Gods for good stout. He was completely worn out on Toussaint’s wine—not that he had any intention of telling Geralt that any time soon—and this small taste of home put him marginally more at ease.

Eskel was still trying to wrap his head around the orks sitting across from them. Melitele, Geralt really hadn’t been lying. They were honest to Gods orks here in Novigrad, sitting in Dandelion’s cabaret. He watched Geralt sip his Redanian Lager. He should have known, Geralt might tease him, but he never outright lied to him.

“You might say I want to try it.” These two, Duncan and Rhys, did seem like they were good enough people. They treated Geralt like an old friend and that meant a lot to Eskel. “I mean ‘m not like Geralt,” Eskel flashed a torn up grin at Geralt before he caught himself and lowered it to a dimmer half smile. “I’ve honestly never once slept with another man while we were together.” He paused for a moment to think, taking a drink to buy himself some time. “‘M kinda bossy-” Geralt snorted loudly into his beer, “-and ‘m definitely jealous.”

“Kind of?” Geralt laughed shoving Eskel’s feet off his lap.

“What?” Eskel looked at him and responded blandly, “I jus’ like being in control of things is all,” shrugging.

Looking over at Duncan and Rhys Eskel didn’t see any particular reaction to his words. At least nothing bad, so that was something. Geralt obviously felt like he’d learned a lot from them, and Eskel knew for a fact that the two of them talked about their wants and needs better now than before. He suspected Geralt’s run in with the orks may have played some part in that. Eskel sat back up on the bench next to Geralt.

“Anyways, like I said, I’ve got a jealous streak. Geralt here, would like to play with that a bit. This is one way for us to do that. It’ll make things a lot of fun for us, later. Trust me,” Eskel smirked at them. “And maybe one of you and me can have some fun of our own in the meantime. If I can’t handle it, I’ll jus’ put a stop to it. So?” Geralt thigh pressed hard against his, warm and comforting.

***

"So I think that this sounds good to me." Rhys looked over at Duncan who nodded. "To us. If you'll have me, I'd be delighted to play with you. I'm in the mood to have someone order me around." He caught Eskel's gaze and smiled, showing a hint of fang.

Duncan leaned forward, making the table creak. "I guess that leaves me with giving you something to be jealous about. You two want to stay here and figure out what you want to do? Because I think I have plans elsewhere with Geralt, if you're up for it."

***

Ever eager for some things he just couldn't get Eskel to give him Geralt grinned at Duncan, "Absolutely." Hand reaching down to squeeze Eskel's knee he looked over sideways at him. "What about _you_?"

An icy prickle had settled in Eskel's gut and flooded down his thighs. This was not what he expected from what Geralt had told him. Somehow he'd thought they would end up paired the other way, with him bossing Duncan around and Rhys taking Geralt again. Rhys didn't sound like the kind of person who wanted to be ordered around and kept on a tight leash based on how Geralt had described his last experience under his control. But Gods if the idea of taking the man apart didn't turn him on.

Eskel swallowed his arousal and found his voice, "I think I'd enjoy bossing you around," he said staring right into Rhys' eyes without a hint of expression.

"I'm sure you will." Rhys didn't look away for a few heartbeats and then very deliberately lowered his gaze, making a show of bowing his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
Orgasm Denial  
Barehanded Spanking  
Discussion of Illicit Drug Use  
Rimming  
Polyamorous Discussions
> 
> Give us a holler if we missed something.


	3. Goodnight, Novigrad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eskel watched Rhys’ eyes widen with fascination as he flicked his fingers, bring the smallest Igni to life on his fingertips underneath the upturned glass. “Have you ever done this before?”_  
Eskel and Rhys play together and find each other very different from that they expected.
> 
> Content info in the end notes!

Duncan and Geralt had taken their leave and Rhys and Eskel had relocated to the big room on the second floor, passing the knowing smirk of Dandelion on the way.

Rhys sat on the bed, bouncing on the mattress a little until he leaned cross legged against the headboard. The room brought back good memories and he was at ease here. "Can we take a moment to talk about things we _don't_ want? I have -let's say a temper problem and if you draw blood or choke me, I will lose it and try to kill you. It has to do with my magic."

He played idly with his braid, letting it slip through his fingers. "You can leave marks, I have no problem with that - I enjoy it. But please keep away from my tattoos when you do. You can humiliate me, use words to dominate me. Just don't tell me to shut up and take it - that phrase brings back bad memories and might also cause me to lose it and try to kill you." With a quick grimace at his own words, he looked at Eskel: "If you'd rather not play, knowing this, tell me. I could understand."

***

“Never met a person who didn’t have some problems,” Eskel watched as Rhys continued to play with his braid, fingers twisting it. He was already thinking of a few things he could do with that braid, “but a fair number of people an’ things have tried to kill me. We are who we are, no reason not to try this with you.”

“As for not sayin’ that - I don’t need to know why - I jus’ need to know not to, and ‘m glad you’re honest ‘bout it.” Eskel shrugged then leaned against the table, smiling very faintly, just watching Rhys. “And I don’t think you have to worry about losing it and trying to murder me - I’ve got things I don’t like too, one of them is that I _really_ don’t like to make people bleed. I like to leave my mark in other ways.”

Pulling out one of the chairs Eskel straddled it, “So, now that I know what I shouldn’t do to you… I really am bossy. I might want to tie you up, definitely want to mark you up, might deny you, or make you come more than you think you can handle. Want to do something with that hair. I need to know if that’s really what you want, and how I would know if you changed your mind.” Eskel crossed his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them, eyes scrutinizing every twitch of Rhys’ fingers on his braid.

***

This time, Rhys' grin showed more than a hint of fang. "I would enjoy all of this. If I need you to stop, I will say Novigrad - but you should probably give me a coin of something to hold. It's possible that I'll stop speaking. That's nothing for you to worry about and no reason to stop but if that happens, I might not be able to say _anything_."

He watched Eskel watch him and gave a little shiver of excitement. It had been a while since he had played as a submissive with anyone else but Duncan and Eskel was interesting. They way he had sat back, all quiet, when he had first arrived with Geralt - he hadn't said much but Rhys was willing to bet he had seen a lot, about him and Duncan.

"I have rope and stuff in my pack, under the bed. You're welcome to use it." Rhys threw his braid over his shoulder and knelt on the bed, hands on his thighs. "Where do you want to start?"

***

“Lemme see what you have in there,” Eskel stood up and fished Rhys’ pack out from under the massive bed. Plenty of rope. Eskel wanted to smile but he held it back, and took the nicely bundled lengths of rope out - all of them. Fresh unpeeled ginger, Eskel could make good use of that and he set that aside too, keeping his pile well in Rhys’ view. 

Digging further he found Rhys’ hairbrush amongst some things he didn’t recognize and a strong amber smelling incense. He added that to the pile, digging deeper revealed what looked like drawing books and Eskel decided he had pried enough. He scooped everything up and moving it over the table he had been leaning on. “Alright,” Eskel stood up and walked over to Rhys on the bed, putting one knee on it to reach him. 

With two fingers under Rhys’ chin Eskel gently forced him to look him in the eye. “‘M gonna go down and get a few things from Dandelion. When I come back I _expect_ you to be in that chair,” Eskel tilted his head at the chair he had been sitting in himself. “Naked. Feet flat on the ground. Hands on your thighs. With you clothes in your bag, under the bed, waiting for me to brush your hair.”

Making a list of what he needed and how little time he wanted to give Rhys to get ready Eskel made sure not to hurry as he got off the bed and walked to the door. Then he bolted down the stairs and made a beeline for Dandelion.

***

Rhys stifled a laugh when he heard Eskel hurrying down the stairs and then hurried himself to get undressed as fast as possible. He stored the pile of clothes in his pack like he had been ordered and sat down in the chair. The wood was cool against his skin and he shifted to get comfortable. His cock had started to pay attention to the situation already. Rhys took a deep breath to center himself, closed his eyes for a moment. The things Eskel had said he would do - he wanted all of them.

When Eskel came up the stairs again, much more slowly, and opened the door, there was the clink of glasses against each other. Rhys forced himself not to look, to wait until Eskel came over to him. He had his hands on his thighs and had let his braid fall over his shoulder to the front again.

***

Grabbing his own bag from behind the bar, Eskel took all of the things Dandelion gathered for him and headed back up the stairs. Going much slower and taking the time to put his relax his mind and get in the mood for this. He opened the door to the room and entered quietly. 

Rhys was a sight, sitting right were he was told, naked and perfect. The icy prickle of arousal settled back into Eskel’s gut. He set his items on the table next to the rest without a word and pulled two long suede leather strips out of his pack. Taking one of Rhys’ nicely coiled ropes Eskel felt the weight of it in his hand, it would work well.

Walking around behind Rhys, Eskel laid the thin strips of leather over one of Rhys’ shoulders - rearranging Rhys’ braid to fall over the back of the chair - taking note of the intricate tattoos there, curling up the side of his neck and down his back. Over the other shoulder he draped the coil of rope, letting Rhys feel the weight of it.

Eskel traced the back of one finger down the side of Rhys’ neck, barely there and then gone. One hand on each side of the chair back Eskel leaned down and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of cardamom, a blend of incense steeped with amber, and sweet burnt smoke. There was the tell tale salty tang of arousal under it all. He straightened up, walking around the front of the chair, tracing a finger over Rhys’ collarbone down to his nipple. Catching it between his finger and thumb he pulled it lightly away from Rhys’ body. “You smell good,” Eskel said bluntly keeping his voice deep and clear.

Crouching down in between Rhys and the table Eskel looked his fill. Let himself enjoy the way Rhys cock twitched minutely as it thickened with arousal. “Open your legs, knees to the outside of the chair.” Rhys did as he was told and Eskel own cock twitched in his leathers. Taking one suede strip from Rhys’ shoulder Eskel ran the back of both his hands up the inside of Rhys’ thighs until his fingers brushed Rhys’ groin. 

The back of one hand smoothed Rhys’ cock up against his abdomen holding it there, while the other circled around the base of his balls. Fondling them, forcing them down to the bottom of his sac, tugging them down and away from Rhys’ body. Then Eskel began to wind the smooth soft leather around the top of Rhys’ sac, loop after loop, drawing them tighter, further, down and away. He listened to Rhys’ breathing, not wanting it to be so tight it was painful _yet_. Tying it off he traced his finger up Rhys’ abdomen, pausing to pinch and tug at his other nipple. He pulled the rope off of Rhys’s other shoulder and unknotted it. He tied a loop in one end and then tied the ends of the leather around Rhys’ balls to it; tossing the coil under the chair he stood, picking up Rhys’ brush, and let his hand trail light over Rhys’ chest as he went behind him again.

Hooking the toe of his boot in the coiled rope under the chair Eskel pulled it through to the back of the chair, kept pulling until he heard Rhys swallow, and then casually stood on the rope. 

Eskel tucked the handle of the brush through his belt and undid the tie holding Rhys’ braid. “Head back.” Running his fingers through the soft black strands to loosen them, he let himself enjoy the slick feeling of Rhys’ hair - smooth and silky in his hands. Gods he wanted to wrap it around his cock. Not right now though. He worked his fingers into Rhys’ hair at his scalp, pressing hard, massaging in small circles to ease the muscles there.

The brush moved easily through Rhys’ hair and Eskel listened to his heart beat steadily, calmly, as he fanned the long stands out over the back of the chair. Starting at the crown of his head Eskel pulled Rhys hair back into a tight braid, pulling more in from each side as he went. After just a few rows Eskel grabbed the other suede strip and started working it into the braid, wrapping it in further with each twist of Rhys’ hair. At the end of the braid Eskel tied the suede around it a few times to tie it off, then made a quick loop in it. Reaching down Eskel picked up the rope from the floor.

“Look back at me.” As soon as Rhys did Eskel slipped the rope through the suede loop and proceeded to tie it off. Pleasure coiled in Eskel’s gut at the sight. Rhys wouldn’t be able to look ahead or down to see what Eskel had planned with the glass cups now. Not unless he wanted to pull viciously on his own balls. “I like your neck exposed like this,” Eskel remarked calmly, stroking Rhys’ throat with the barest of fingertips. He wanted to mark it, leave a deep burgundy love bite there for everyone to see. “Hmm, one more thing.” Eskel cut the remaining rope off the end with his trophy knife, “Arms behind the chair.”

***

Having Eskel handle his cock and balls so casually was astonishingly intimate, but what took Rhys' breath away and made him melt into the chair was Eskel brushing and braiding his hair. The former was preparation, the latter was at least in part purely for Eskel's enjoyment. And Rhys enjoyed other people's enjoyment.

With closed eyes, he sank deeper into his other senses. Eskel's fingers in his hair, on his skin. Just the slightest of touch, leaving him hungry for more. The smell of the different leathers Eskel used and wore, of the rope and of Eskel himself - a bit of clean sweat, the chemical tang and a hint of Geralt. Did they use the same soap? Maybe. The weight of the rope, pulling on his tightly wrapped balls in a way that held the promise of pain. When Eskel was finished tying the rope off, Rhys put a tiny bit of strain on it, just to test it and was rewarded with a sharp ache. He relaxed into his bindings again with a smile.

Eskel's fingertips on his throat made him put his head back even further. He didn't have much leeway but he wanted to expose himself as much as possible to the touch. When Eskel ordered him, he obediently moved his arms behind the chair, around the backrest, bringing his wrists as close together as he could.

Astral sight twinged at his consciousness, filling the darkness behind his eyes with colours. The gold of Eskel's aura, Rhys' own dark green reaching into it, seedlings growing towards the light. He pulled his magic back into himself with a short gasp and opened his eyes. "Please, may I speak?" Eskel hadn't forbidden it, but Rhys felt more comfortable asking.

"You may." Eskel stopped what he was doing. Rhys couldn't see, only sensed him standing still. But he could see Eskel's face and nearly lost himself in his eyes. Dark amber, glowing in the soft light of the room. 

"I think you should give me a coin to hold now, I really don't know how long I'm going to be able to talk." Rhys shifted a bit in his bindings, aware that he should have mentioned what he was about to say much earlier. "There's another thing. If we keep this up, I will slip into astral sight. It lets me see auras. Emotions, emotional connections. It can reveal-- intimate things. Fear, love, a bond with someone, things like that. A bit like your witcher senses, only that I _see_. I can try to not do it if you're uncomfortable with it but I don't know if I won't use it just by instinct." 

He let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, I should have told you before." _Fuck._ Eskel's eyes were suddenly guarded and Rhys tensed. Had he already messed this up? He wanted to move his arms, hug himself, but he kept still and waited.

***

Rhys' breathing had picked up noticeably while he talked. And then just paused. He was holding his breath, waiting for Eskel's answer. Heart sputtering away in his chest. Gods damnit. What was with these magical people pokin' into everything? Always. Eskel sighed audibly and pulled himself back into his proper mindset. 

Willing himself calm he placed a heavy comforting hand on the join between Rhys' neck and shoulder. 

"What will you do with the information you learn about me?" He asked. Calm, even, but he had to know. He listened to Rhys' body for the truth in his response.

***

A hand at his neck, heavy and ready to grip, to squeeze. The dangerous calm tone that hid the storm. Rhys' breath hitched. It lasted for the length of two rapid heartbeats, then he reminded himself that this wasn't what was happening. The hand was meant to comfort and Rhys leaned into it, face brushing up against Eskel's arm for a moment. 

"I will do nothing with it. I certainly will not tell anyone. You're listening to my heartbeat, my breathing and you learn things about me. You _know_ how much I love Duncan, just from listening to that when I look at him. I would see your connection to Geralt. Neither of us would do anything with that information." Rhys held Eskel's gaze. "I apologize for not telling you before, I should have. The truth is, I forgot. It's so normal for me."

***

A breath frozen in time, heart tripping over itself for the shortest moment, then Rhys’ words helping ease Eskel’s mind. Relaxing his weight further onto his heels, Eskel slid his hand onto the main part of Rhys’ shoulder. Still there, but not as close to his vulnerable neck - he’d scared Rhys with his touch and he didn’t like the implications of that at all - he let his thumb trace over part of Rhys’ tattoo.

“It’s alright. ‘M just a private person is all.” Eskel waited, letting his thumb wander here and there, letting himself relax and willing Rhys to relax with him. He really just wanted to comfort Rhys after scaring him, and maybe feel a little reassured himself before he started giving Rhys so much pain and pleasure, “Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?”

“I’d like that, yes.”

Moving to Rhys’ right side, Eskel slid his hand down across his chest, squatting down. Wrapping his arms around Rhys’ and the chair Eskel laid the unscarred side of his face against Rhys’ chest. “Thanks for telling me - even if it scared you - ‘stead of just invadin’ my privacy.” Eskel closed his eyes and just held tightly for five solid even breaths. Rhys’ body loosened slightly in his hold and he let go standing up. 

Returning to his position behind the chair, where Rhys was able to see him with his head tipped back and tied down, Eskel opened one of the pouches on the belt across his chest and withdrew and old Temerian Floren - useless now. Holding it up above Rhys for him to see Eskel lowered his voice to a rumble, “This is yours, a reminder that you can say no when I take everything else away from you.” He dropped down into a squat behind the chair, loosening the quick tie he had made when Rhys asked to speak. Instead Eskel pressed Rhys’ wrists a little closer together, winding the rope around each one and looping it through itself several times before securing them together tightly.

Holding Rhys’ hand open, Eskel traced the cool metal of the Floren over Rhys’ palm, slid in between each finger, before pressing it into them and curling Rhys’ hand closed over it. Putting his open palm over the fingertips of Rhys’ other hand, barely letting it touch, he leaned forward and spoke warmly against Rhys’ ear, “Take a moment to touch my hand.”

That hand was going to do _so_ many things to Rhys’ body. And Eskel couldn’t help but imagine each one as Rhys moved his fingers over his palm. When Rhys was done Eskel drew himself up and abruptly grabbed the back of the chair, tipping it on its two back legs. The action settled Rhys’ ass completely back into the chair, tugging the rope tight. The sweet catch in Rhys breath at the action settled Eskel’s mood, and he watched Rhys’ eyes carefully to see his pupils dilate slightly as the rope pulled on his balls. Without a word, Eskel righted the chair sliding it sideways along the table, and left Rhys to sit while he undressed.

Stripping off his armor, belts and pouches, his tunic, and finally removing his boots, Eskel felt more grounded already. Bare feet on the smooth old wooden floors, Eskel stacked all his gear on one of the chairs. He arranged the glass cups on the table next to Rhys, a couple of sizes - tiny bud vases from the tables and small fancy wine cups - and choosing a small one held it up above Rhys for him to see.

He watched Rhys’ eyes widen with fascination as he flicked his fingers, bring the smallest Igni to life on his fingertips underneath the upturned glass. “Have you ever done this before?” Eskel asked as the lone flame ate up all the air inside the cup. Deftly moving the cup down out of Rhys’s vision Eskel placed it over his nipple. Watching with satisfaction as the glass sealed to his skin, creating a vacuum hungry for air, drawing Rhys’ flesh away from his body.

***

Rhys' answer took a while. He gave a soft moan when the glass touched his skin, when its warmth spread and put firm pressure on his skin. It wasn't painful as such, just different from anything he knew. Realising Eskel was still waiting for him to reply, Rhys gathered his thoughts. 

"I haven't. I know how it works and I've seen it done, but I've never had it done to me." He relaxed into his bindings, the ache in his balls slowly fading as he took the strain from the rope. "I like it." His voice sounded hoarse to himself, thick with emotions. The fear had settled, quieted by Eskel's calm presence, and had left excitement and a pleasant nervousness in its place. 

It had been a while since he had played with someone who was a virtual stranger, on the recommendation of a friend. And there was a special kind of thrill to it. You met someone, chatted for a bit and then proceeded to allow them to render you helpless and do painful and incredibly intimate things to you. That instant connection was so different from being in a relationship or even playing with someone who was a friend. Rhys was curious to see where it would go.

Rubbing a fingertip over the lettering on the coin, he let himself sink into astral sight. The bright red spark of Eskel's Igni raced through his aura and floated at its outskirts. Normal fire wouldn't be visible but this was and even held the shape of a flame, connected by a thread back to Eskel's core like a wick. There was a sound to it, a low thrum just at the cusp of hearing.

Rhys' own aura was thick where the glass still pulled on his skin, flowing around the black shape of it. Little tendrils of gold and green met between him and Eskel, winding around each other as he watched.

***

Out of all of this, nothing pleased Eskel more than to hear that Rhys had not had this done to him before. The pure joy of giving someone a new experience aroused Eskel, made his mind sing and his cock throb in his leathers. He let his flame go out and swiftly placed the second cup over Rhys’ other nipple. Listening for another soft moan to escape Rhys as the twin sensations overtook him. Eskel ran his fingernails over Rhys’ chest, below the cups and around the outsides - careful not to get close enough to disturb the seals on Rhys’ skin - hard enough to leave beautiful red trails in their wake.

Coming around the chair and dropping out of Rhys’ line of sight Eskel took another cup off of the table and began heating the air inside it. “Open your legs wider.” Rhys obeyed hazily, giving Eskel a good view of the inside of his thighs. Fair skinned and flawless. Not a scar or mark in sight. A fierce desire to change that rose in Eskel’s chest. Running the back of his fingers up the inside of Rhys thigh, almost but not quite brushing his balls, Eskel quickly let the cup suck to the skin halfway up the inside of Rhys’ leg. Repeating the same routine, Eskel brushed up Rhys’ other thigh and placed a cup on the opposite side.

The next two Eskel placed, one on each side, on Rhys’ lower abdomen. Watching as it rose and fell with each breath. Seeing the skin around Rhys’ nipples already darkening into a bruise. Eskel smiled at the sight, his marks on Rhys’ perfect skin. This was good, better than he had thought it would be. Squeezing his cock roughly through his leathers to slow himself down, Eskel settled himself. Heating the air in the second to last cup, one of the smallest, Eskel placed it against the tender flesh at the upper inside of Rhys’ thigh. In the hollow just above the tendon there. And the last one on the other side to match it.

Eskel sat back on his heels to admire his work. Gods Rhys was a sight like this. Tied and marked up. Breathing deeply. Eskel reached out and grazed Rhys’ hard cock with the back of his forefinger. “Feels good doesn’ it?”

It two deep breaths and a swallow before Rhys answered, quietly, “Yes.”

Eskel flicked Rhys’ cock, right below the head. A sharp intake of breath. Good. He kept doing it, all along the length, down to his balls. Slightly less force there. Once, twice, three times. And back up Rhys’ length. All the way, even flicking the head. Then he smoothed the back of his forefinger down it again, soothing the sting. 

He would have to take the cups off now, he thought to himself, Rhys’ skin was so light and tender. But he loved the way it took his marks.

***

Rhys had dropped his astral sight - Eskel didn't want him to see what happened and so he waited with closed eyes. Every new glass pressed to his skin made him moan and brought a rush of pleasure, his cock achingly hard by the time the last one was in place. There was some pain, a satisfying throb that mixed with the pleasure, heightened it.

For a time, nothing happened. Rhys knew Eskel was somewhere in front of him, given away by his breathing and nothing else. A sudden pain made him flinch, and flinch again. Rhys had to force himself to keep his legs spread, to allow Eskel to flick a finger against his cock. The last flick, against the swollen, sensitive head, drew a quiet whimper from him. Another touch, this one gentle and deeply unsatisfactory - all it did was leave Rhys wanting for more. More pain or more soft touches, he didn't really care.

He knew better than to say so - he was fairly sure that any begging would just mean he'd have to wait longer. And he didn't feel like pushing Eskel. Maybe later but right now it would have felt wrong.

Fingertips brushed his skin and he arched his back just the tiniest bit to follow the touch. Eskel gave a nudge to the glass he had first attached. Not enough to break the seal but enough to make Rhys moan. He wanted to look down and see the bruises, watch Eskel take off the glasses but even a slight raise of his head tugged on his balls hard enough that he didn't try again.

The pull on his nipple was gone and left a deep ache. Rhys sucked in a breath when Eskel caught the nipple between his fingers and gave it a squeeze. He tried to relax and keep as still as possible while the other glasses were removed. It got harder as the pain from the bruises mounted, no longer tempered by the warmth, and he squirmed in his bindings.

***

Eskel couldn’t help but smirk at Rhys squirming. All his sensations gone, and desperate for more. At Eskel’s mercy to get what he wanted. Stepping forward Eskel carefully placed his knee on the chair between Rhys’ legs, directly over the rope causing it to tighten. Eskel’s own heart slowed down, loving the stillness that fell over Rhys immediately, the small aborted cry strangled in his throat as the rope pulled on him mercilessly. Ever steady Eskel leaned over Rhys with his whole body, one hand teasing an abused nipple gently, the other tracing down Rhys’ braid pulled taught by the rope. 

The air between their chests was warm and humid from the heat of the cups. Face close to Rhys’ exposed neck, Eskel breathed in deep that intoxicating foreign scent. Not of the continents, it said. Sealing his mouth over Rhys’ neck, above the curling flora of his exotic tattoos, Eskel starting sucking a dark mark there. He could hear Rhys breath speed, from the sensations all flooding back: the pulling between his legs, the softness on his sore nipple, the sweet suction on his neck. And while Rhys was swimming in it all, Eskel deftly loosened the quick knot that attached the leather in Rhys’ hair to the rope.

The rope fell the floor softly behind the chair and Eskel withdrew. Knee coming off the chair, letting Rhys recover from the flood of sensation and realize his neck was free for the moment. Eskel turned to the table and cleared the top of it, then went behind Rhys and untied his hands, letting the rope spool into a perfect circle on the ground. Eskel placed a hand on the outside of Rhys’ shoulder as he walked around the outside of the chair again, stopping in front of him. Picking up the rope still tied to the leather strip wrapped around Rhys’ balls Eskel coiled it in his hand a few times - out of the way but not so short as to pull for now - before dropping low in front of Rhys. “Lean forward and wrap your arms around my shoulders, legs around my waist.”

***

Mindful of the leash Eskel had him on, Rhys scooted forward and did as he was told. He held on tight and couldn't help but tense a bit, a little doubtful if Eskel really could pick him up.

There was no need to worry. Eskel hoisted him easily enough and waited while Rhys shifted, changed his hold. Rhys ended up with his arms loosely around Eskel's neck, his nose buried in Eskel's hair, chasing his scent. Definitely the same soap as Geralt, with a bitter trace of juniper. He let the fingertips on one hand wander up Eskel's spine and neck, ran a thumb over the skin behind his ear. 

His cock was trapped between them and Rhys wanted to press harder, but he didn't. For now, he was willing to just wait. The weight of the rope pulled on his balls, not painful but a reminder that his pleasure was not his own. 

Eskel carried him for a few short steps and put him on the table but Rhys wasn't ready to let go just yet. He locked his ankles and ran both hands down Eskel's back before sprawling on the table. Propped up on his elbows, legs spread wide, head back and throat exposed, he offered himself up. He was sure that the mark Eskel has left there was already turning into a bruise and he wished for more. More of everything.

***

One hand still curled around the rope, Eskel paused a moment to stare. It was an enticing sight, Rhys all splayed out on the table, there for Eskel’s taking. The invitation was obvious. As much as Eskel didn’t want to let go of the rope he wanted both his hands free, so after looking his fill he dropped down and secured it to the table leg. Making sure it was _just_ tight enough. Rhys wouldn’t want to wiggle to escape Eskel’s flames. Or he would, but he would feel it. 

One hand firmly on each knee Eskel squeezed. Running them up Rhys’ thighs, his thumbs brushing over the perfect circular bruises the cups had left. Purposely avoiding Rhys’ cock, working over his hipbones and digging his thumbs in there, Eskel moved on. Up Rhys’ abdomen - perfectly strong core - hands moving over the faint marks of Eskel’s earlier scratches, thumbs seeking out Rhys’ now too sensitive nipples. Rolling them, pinching them until Rhys’ breath was held for a moment. Then Eskel just pressed his thumbs into them, leaning forward to put his mouth on Rhys’ neck again, close to this earlier mark and work on leaving another. Rhys only moaned when Eskel withdrew, satisfied with his work. 

Confident Rhys wasn’t going anywhere, tied down and wanton, Eskel didn’t worry about leaving him when he went to retrieve the bottle of grain alcohol Dandelion had procured for him. Nor did he worry they would be seen when he opened the room’s door wide and retrieved a bowl of nicely cubed ice from the floor outside it. Dandelion wouldn’t let anyone up here while they played. Whether Rhys knew that or not was not Eskel’s worry. The last thing he grabbed was a small alchemy bowl out of his own pack.

Eskel could conjure a flame on Rhys without alcohol, but to do what he really wanted, fuel would make it easier to control. Returning to Rhys, Eskel set the bowl of ice down first in between Rhys open legs to the side of the rope. Next he placed the booze, followed by the smaller empty bowl off the side. He filled the bowl with the alcohol and took his trophy knife out, laying it across the bowl.

A hand on either side of Rhys’ hips Eskel caught his eyes, “‘M not going to cut you with that, remember I don’t like blood.” He watched as Rhys slowly dipped his chin in agreement.

Dipping his knife in the bowl Eskel wet the blade. He laid the flat of it flush with Rhys’ ribcage, spreading a wet spot of alcohol there, turning it over and doing it again. Returning it to the bowl he dipped tip, and held it suspended over Rhys’ chest, leaving behind a trail of tiny droplets, away from the glistening area the flat of his knife had made, winding downward towards Rhys’ navel. Each drop small enough that it clung to Rhys’ skin instead of running across it. Eskel set the knife back over the bowl and settled his mind, concentrating. He was good at this. Better than the others, any of them, had ever been, and he _liked_ it.

“I want you to watch. Don’t close your eyes or I will stop. But,” Eskel swallowed roughly, opening himself up just a little, “you can watch however you want. With your eyes, or in your own way.” Holding his hand up between them Eskel twitched his fingers barely and a flame sparked to life over Rhys’ ribcage. Eskel just stared at it, willing it to grow, fingers steady. It grew tall at first, then oddly large at the top. Looking like a ball of flame on a fiery spindle. Then the spindle began to split and separate. The thin little flames under the upturned bell at the top coiling and bobbing under it. Sometimes grazing Rhys’ skin with their heat, other times only coming close. Soon it took form, definition, and became obviously the jellyfish tattooed on the side of Rhys’ back.

It bobbed and swam as if underwater and then began its journey. Eskel was so concentrated on controlling it, on not letting it actually burn Rhys, that it was all he could do to maintain it’s slow weaving path along the droplets. As it meandered down Rhys’ chest to his abdomen eating each one up, trailing its tentacles along Rhys’ skin, Eskel listened to Rhys heart rate and breathing in the background on his mind. At Rhys navel when there was no more alcohol for it to feed on, Eskel snapped his fingers, extinguishing it quickly.

***

Rhys slowly blinked himself awake out of the fascinated trance he had fallen into, seeing Eskel's fire bloom up and take shape. He had slipped in and out of astral sight almost without noticing. The thrum of the fire got louder there, deep enough to be felt in his bones every time it touched him, left some of itself on his skin. The heat of it sank into him, into his aura, copper inclusions in the green, until it dissolved.

Eskel's utter concentration was just as mesmerizing to watch, the fire reflecting in his eyes. Rhys twitched a little every time the fire touched him but not out of real fear of getting burned. He trusted Eskel and his obvious skill in this. At times, the heat _almost_ turned to pain but it never actually did. His movements tightened the leash he was tied down with, tiny warning twinges of pain.

When the jellyfish vanished, tentacles curling up and turning into a wisp of smoke, Rhys was disappointed. He didn't want it to be over. Still sprawling on the table, all there for the taking, he looked up at Eskel. So many scars, maybe even more than Geralt. Rhys hadn't paid attention before but now, with Eskel standing over him, he couldn't miss them. A part of him wished he could touch them all, map out Eskel's body like that. But this was not the moment.

"Please, don't stop." He wondered how it would feel to have the fire touch his cock, have it lick up cool drops of alcohol lined up until it reached the tip. The thought gave him a shiver and he moaned when he pulled on his leash, relaxed back into it. He wanted to reach out to Eskel, to touch him and to make him touch, lean into Rhys again to suck on his neck or his nipples. Another shiver, another pull on the leash.

Rhys had to clear his throat, take a moment to gather his thoughts. "Can you hold on to the leash, please? The rope, I mean. It's --different when you do." He trusted Eskel to understand.

***

Eyes opening a little wider as he took in Rhys’ request Eskel felt himself sucking in air just a tad faster, lungs hungry for air as a strong wave of arousal washed over him. Sweet Melitele. Rhys understood this so well, without even being told what Eskel wanted from him. Why he tied him up, how Eskel had tied him up; Rhys only wanted to give more to Eskel, not less. Satisfaction at Rhys’ openness seeped into Eskel’s body, his mind, his gut - mixing with the pleasure roiling there. Eskel decided right then that he would take everything from Rhys that he offered. Everything he had to give up.

“You wanna be mine for the night?” Eskel’s voice was rough with lust, a low possessive growl edging into it. He dropped down and untied the rope from the the table leg coiling it in his offhand again. “You wanna be reminded of that? Feel my hand on your leash…” Eskel put a hand on each of Rhys’ knees pushing them outward, spreading them even wider, and in doing so he pulled the leash tight between his hand and Rhys’ balls. “I can give you that.”

Holding Rhys’ gaze, long and heady, Eskel gave a half smirk before he bent his head to Rhys spread legs. Completely avoiding Rhys’ straining cock, Eskel sucked roughly over the bruise left by the small cup where Rhys inner thigh joined his groin. Eskel worried the spot with his lips and tongue, still pressing Rhys legs apart wide, stretching the leash and listening to Rhys whimper softly.

When he withdrew Rhys was panting. Eskel’s cock was hard, confined, and frustrated inside his leathers. He put it out of his mind, for now. Dipping his trophy knife into the bowl of alcohol again, Eskel held it up questioningly, “More? Or do you want me to do something different to you now?”

Rhys kept his legs spread wide even without being held. He took a moment to answer, eyes dark with lust. "More, please. Take what you want from me, make me yours for tonight-" His words ended in a desperate moan.

Eskel heard his own breath catch at those words. That deep possessive streak rose up in him and he _wanted_. To take, to own, to mark - just for tonight - he wanted to make Rhys _his_. The rope felt so good in his hand, warmed by his skin, perfect in his grip. Eskel brought the knife to Rhys’ thigh, rubbing the flat of the blade in a circle there. He created a trail of drops again, creeping up Rhys’ leg, over his hipbone, wandering dangerously close along the side of his cock where it laid flush with his abdomen.

Knife safely back on the bowl Eskel concentrated and twitched the fingers of his right hand, held slightly up in the air. Flames burst to life over Rhys’s thigh. Eskel gripped the rope, letting it pull ever so slightly. _Don’t move_, it reminded Rhys. Slight movement of his hand and the flames grew and shaped themselves to Eskel’s will. Crawling a few inches along Rhys’ leg, getting longer, then writhing and sprouting four perfect legs. A shaggy head, a snout, two tiny flickering flames for ears… the flaming wolf stretched its back before setting forward. 

It stalked along the trail of fuel Eskel had set out for it. Paws leaving little burning spots of heat in its wake. Side to side it roamed up Rhys’ thigh, pausing to lower its head in a parody of scenting the ground over the deep bruise Eskel had left in the crook of his hip. Continuing its journey over the hills and valleys of Rhys’ hip and groin until it came near his cock. The wolf brushed its side up against Rhys’ swollen length from base to tip as it walked along. Just as it reached the head it turned away. All the fuel gone, Eskel snapped his fingers and the wolf faded into a wisp of smoke.

Eskel was looked up to see Rhys, shallow breaths and wanton face. Gods, he really wanted to turn him over, lick him open, and fuck him senseless. Taking a deep breath, Eskel willed as much control into his cock and his lust clouded mind as he did into his fire. Not yet. He wanted to tie Rhys back up, hoist him in the air, tease him till he was begging to be allowed to come. Order Rhys to pleasure him. Enjoy this more, then he would let them both have their release.

Trailing his fingers up Rhys thigh, following his wolf’s path, Eskel dipped down and gave a light squeeze to Rhys’ tightly held balls. He rubbed his thumb over them and squeezed again. “You do not come tonight without my permission. Understand?”

Rhys let out a breathless moan. "Yes. I understand." Eskel could hear his heart thumping loudly away in his chest, see his chest rising faintly with each shallow breath. 

Tracing his thumb over Rhys' balls once more - over the leather tied there. Eskel firmly pressed against the vein along the underside of Rhys' cock and ran his thumb up to the head. "Tell me. Who do you belong to tonight?" He played his thumb over the leaking slit while he waited for Rhys to respond.

***

Rhys flinched hard enough at the touch to shake the table. "I belong to you. To do with as you please." He fell back, stretching his arms over his head to keep from reaching for Eskel. It was all he could do not to rut against Eskel's hand, to get more of his touch. 

A satisfied growl from Eskel. The way he looked at Rhys, all predatory and possessive, was just dangerous enough to give Rhys a thrill of nervous excitement at the thought of what Eskel might do. 

"Turn around. Bend over the table, spread your legs. Hold on to the sides of the table and don't let go." The unspoken threat of consequences made Rhys shiver and he slid off the table. Slowly, because he wasn't sure his legs would carry him. 

Turning and stepping over the rope so it was between his legs again, Rhys lay on the table and gripped the edges, coin under his palm. The polished wood was smooth against his skin, soothing the pain in his nipples and the heat left behind by the fire. He spread his legs wide, his cock nudging against the underside of the table. 

With closed eyes, he waited. Small movements made the rope twitch, pulling on his balls and he whined. A frustrated ache began to settle in his groin, almost pleasurable but not quite. It was very tempting to move, take some of the edge off by rubbing his cock against the table. But he didn't. Eskel would give him what he wanted. Eventually.

Rhys flinched again at fingertips ghosting over his skin and choked back a loud yelp, his nipples rubbing painfully against the wood. A warning tug on the rope made him grip the table harder.

***

Eskel briefly let his fingertips trail over Rhys when he went to his alchemy pouch on top of his armor piled neatly on the chair, over Rhys’ ass, up his ribs to his shoulder. From the pouch he grabbed a small vial of capsaicin oil and two linen rags normally used for applying the oils to his swords. Dropping one linen in the bowl of alcohol Eskel carefully uncorked the vial and used the other to spread the viscous oil on the flat of his knife blade.

Kneeling behind Rhys, Eskel ran his hand down the back of one thigh. Rhys was enjoying this far too much, and yet wasn’t desperate enough. Eskel wanted to see Rhys struggle with his pleasure, beg for release, and know that Eskel controlled it for him.

Eskel leaned in to placed a soft kiss at the top of Rhys’ leg, then drew the flat of the blade across it leaving a shining wet trail of oil in its wake. It wouldn’t burn immediately, but when it set in it wouldn’t stop and it would be truly painful, not a tease. Careful not to get it on himself Eskel repeated his ritual a few inches below with the other side of the knife. A kiss, then swiping the flat of the blade over it to leave to leave an even line of oil behind. Pausing to reapply the oil to the knife he knowing the burn would be setting in by now on the first strip.

Again he followed the same pattern, a kiss and a swipe, slow and even across the back of Rhys’ leg. Four glistening lines evenly spaced down the back of Rhys’ thigh stared back at Eskel. The skin under the oil had started to turn red as the pepper compounds did their work. Eskel wanted more though, and coated the blade again. Rubbing his thumb gently across the back of Rhys’ knee - such a sensitive and vulnerable place - Eskel made up his mind and gave it a kiss before swiping the oil across it with his knife. 

Sitting back on his heels he stared at Rhys, legs spread apart, ass in the air, leg faintly trembling. “You like this don’t you?” Eskel ran his hand up and down Rhys calf below the pinkish red lines. Rhys only response was a low hum and Eskel smiled. That was alright. Rhys breath was even and his heartbeat was calm. Rhys had warned him about this, they were in good territory here.

Methodically Eskel made his way down Rhys’ other leg until they were a matched set. Shiny with burning oil and Rhys’ legs were shaking - with strain, or pain, or some combination of both. Eskel used the cloth dipped in alcohol to remove the oil from his knife and set it aside. He ran one finger down Rhys’ spine, light, probably annoyingly so, and stopped just at the swell of his ass.

One hand firm on each side of Rhys’ ass Eskel spread him wide and waited patiently, looking his fill. “This is mine tonight.” Rhys whined. Eskel ran the flat of one finger over Rhys’ hole, and it clenched under his touch, so he did it again. “I’ll have it if I want,” Eskel’s voice was rough, “Or I’ll leave it hungry to be filled. It’s my choice, not yours.” Eskel rubbed his finger over it once more drinking in Rhys’s sounds before he bent down and licked from the leather around Rhys’ balls over his hole and up. Rhys heart rate tripped up dramatically.

This was something Eskel truly loved. Tasting another person, making them want to writhe with pleasure when they knew they couldn’t - shouldn’t. He’d told Rhys not to move and he had hold of the rope, added tension now and again specifically to remind Rhys that he still held it. That he still owned Rhys for the night. Eskel let his tongue wander. All around, over and back, small licks at Rhys’ center. Kisses and nibbles at his rim, begging him to let Eskel inside a tiny bit. Eventually Rhys' body did yield and Eskel took his chance to dip his tongue in a fraction, licking just inside Rhys, tasting his heat. And this time it was Eskel who had to bite back a moan.

***

Eskel's soft touches and kisses only served to add to Rhys' nervousness. He knew pain was in store for him, just not how. The smell of the oil itched in his nose and when the pain set in a minute later, Rhys could tell it would be intense.

The pull on the rope was almost a welcome distraction, a different kind of pain. Having Eskel hold the leash gave it a meaning Rhys vastly preferred to just being tied up with it, as much as he enjoyed that. 

As the burning on his skin built, just as hot as the fire and creeping ever deeper into his body, Rhys sunk into his magic. He didn't try to interpret what he saw, just floated among the swirling colours, nudged by the currents created by their emotions. Eskel's voice pulled him back just enough that he took the meaning of the words in, from tone as much as from what Eskel said to him. Words wouldn't come but Rhys didn't worry about it. 

The touch to his ass told him that Eskel didn't worry either and trusted him to use the coin if anything was the matter. His aura surged against Rhys', more and more deep red surfacing in the gold like magma. Where their auras merged, they took on a rich bronze tone, shimmering with red as if reflecting fire.

Rhys breathed deep and let his attention wander to the pain in his legs, patches of dark green that stung his mind. A shockwave of pleasure ran over him when Eskel's tongue started exploring, licking and probing until it entered him. Eskel's choked moan caused another wave, this one flowing into him from Eskel's aura. Rhys' body seemed very far away. His muscles were sluggish to obey him when he tried to relax them even more, in the hope that Eskel would continue pleasuring him.

***

Tongue delving further, Eskel let himself savor the way Rhys struggled to relax into him, pain preventing it, but body wanting it. Eskel played a bit more, tongue swirling and hands digging into Rhys’ ass before he drew back. Rhys’ hole was slightly open, slick with his saliva, and clenching in the air- desperate to have the warmth of Eskel’s mouth back on it. 

Sucking on his finger until it was wet, Eskel pressed the tip against Rhys’ soft open entrance. Carefully he fucked it in and out, sliding deeper with each stroke. Rhys let out a loose breath, moaning as his body tried to grip Eskel, pulsing around his finger. Eskel reached down, rope still in hand, to squeeze his own cock and balls hard through his leathers. He wanted to do so much more to Rhys right now but this wasn’t intended to give Rhys any satisfaction. 

Deftly avoiding Rhys' prostate Eskel pressed his finger the rest of the way in and leaned over him. Letting out a few coils of Rhys’ leash Eskel draped his arm over Rhys’ at the edge of the table. Laying down on top of Rhys - finger still sunk in his ass - Eskel relaxed and let his full weight press down on Rhys. His wolf medallion which had vibrated softly off and on throughout the evening as Rhys slipped in and out of astral sight, thrummed heavily trapped between Eskel’s chest and Rhys’ back. Eskel wondered briefly what it was reacting so strong to, it hadn’t vibrated that hard against Rhys’ chest when he had carried him to the table. Maybe he could ask Rhys later.

Smiling against Rhys’ back Eskel cocked his wrist, pulling his finger out almost all the way before sliding it back in, ever careful not to brush against that sweet spot. “You like this?” his voice rumbled, deep in his chest, reverberating with his medallion against Rhys’s back. “I bet you want more. Prolly not enough to satisfy you is it?” Eskel’s pace was torturously slow as he fucked Rhys with his finger. Letting Rhys’ feel his weight. “You want a cock. In this pretty ass, down your throat.” Pulling himself upright and removing his finger Eskel landed a quick smack on Rhys’ ass, “We’ll see.” 

Putting some space between them and taking up the slack in the rope Eskel took the rag from the bowl of alcohol and squeezed it out. He wiped over the first red stripe of capsaicin oil he’d placed on Rhys’ leg. Rhys’ leg shook, it burned more at first - like alcohol on a sore - but it cleaned the oil off and halted any further skin damage. Eskel made quick work of cleaning each strip. When he was done he took a chunk of ice from the bowl Dandelion had provided and began to run it over the bright red lines left behind. Tenderly Eskel glided the ice back and forth across the burning skin until he was sure it was numb.

“Stay.”

Eskel watched Rhys closely as he set the rope down on the floor for a moment. He was fairly certain Rhys wouldn’t dare move and he needed to carry some supplies to the other side of the room for what he had planned next. He gathered several more coils of rope, his knife, and his alchemy pouch silently padding over to set them on the low table in the sitting area. Grabbing one last coil of rope Eskel stared at Rhys for a moment in silence.

“Let go of the table, sit up, and turn over,” Eskel ordered, picking the leash back up and giving it a light tug. Rhys whined, complying as fast as his body would allow. Before he could even really find his legs Eskel grabbed him under the ass and hoisted him back onto the table, setting him there. “Arms out to the side.” A deep breath from Rhys and he lifted them up and out. “Good,” Eskel’s praise was quick and he bent to suck on Rhys sore nipple, pleased that he had listened so well. He paused with Rhys’ heart beating loudly in his ears this close. It was fast but steady, and the sound was intoxicating. He paused a moment before moving to Rhys’ other swollen nub, bruised from the earlier cupping.

Stepping back Eskel saw that Rhys was glassy eyed and limp, working hard to keep his arms up. Quickly, Eskel doubled his rope and wrapped it around Rhys’ chest below his nipples, passing it through the loop behind his back, repeating this again before tying it off with a half hitch. He moved the remaining rope above Rhys’ nipples and repeated the whole process, then wrapped it in a ‘V’ shape over Rhys’ neck and down to the bottom rope on the front of his chest twisting it a few times over his breastbone. He brought the tail back over Rhys’ shoulder and secured it in a wishbone pattern behind his back. Chest harness secured Eskel pulled Rhys toward him, letting Rhys’ cock slide up against the bulge in his leathers. He placed a careful kiss on Rhys’ neck, inhaling that foreign scent of cardamom and incense, “Hold onto me.” 

And Rhys clung to him as Eskel carried him to the other side of the room and laid him out on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a collaboration between [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) and I. This work is a crossover between our worlds of Shadowrun and Witcher. Rhys is bookscorpion's wonderful OC who is featured with Duncan in the series [Changing of the Light](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266935).  
This series of fics takes place starting in the later chapters of my witcher fic [Finding Center](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039/chapters/44157295) (starting around Ch 15-16) continuing through its conclusion, and some ambiguous time after bookscorpion's [The Unconsenting Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234428/chapters/43142189).  
We are thrilled you are joining us for the third chapter :) That one kind of grew a little out of control and will continue in the fourth. Enjoy.
> 
> CONTENT INFO:
> 
> Fire play/Fire Cupping  
Cock and Ball Bondage  
Rope Bondage  
Anal Fingering  
Rimming  
Mentions of Past Abuse


	4. Where the Ork and the Wolf Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eskel kept Rhys unbalanced in every sense of the word. The blows landing on Rhys' ass and his thighs sent him swinging helplessly in his bonds, no way to still himself. He was jerked back and forth between pain and pleasure and it grew harder and harder to tolerate both._

Eskel's weight on top of him had drawn Rhys back into his body, at least for now. Eskel's finger in his ass left him frustrated and longing for more. The pressure of the rope harness grounded him and he wanted more of that, too. 

When Eskel picked him up, Rhys nestled into him with his eyes closed. Eskel's cock pressed hard against his own, separated only by Eskel's leathers. They did nothing to hide the heat of it. Under his hands, Eskel's skin was smooth and warm, with the scars colder, flesh and skin knotted together. 

Rhys didn't want to let go when Eskel put him down. He caught Eskel's gaze and held up a hand to his chest in a silent question. Moving closer so Rhys' hand touched him, Eskel sat down and pulled him into his lap. 

With his nose buried against Eskel's neck, Rhys ran his free hand over Eskel's chest and arms. He lingered on every scar, tracing them with his fingertips, and listened to Eskel's heartbeat, calm and measured. Eskel's low hum of pleasure was more a vibration than a sound, deep in his chest.

It took some of the urgency out of Rhys. His cock was still aching to be touched and the thought of getting fucked by Eskel or even just fingered made Rhys shudder with lust. But when Eskel nudged him to stretch out on the floor again, he obeyed and kept his hands to himself. 

He let Eskel move him around at will, pliant and soft. A rope wrapped around his thigh over the knee, another around the ankle of the other leg. Calloused hands caressed him while his limbs got put into the position Eskel wanted them in and Rhys gave little sounds of pleasure at every touch. He was turned over on his stomach and a soft moan escaped him when his cock rubbed against the floor, squeezed by his weight. Eskel tied Rhys' arms behind his back, rope wound around his forearms, hands gripping the arms, coin trapped by his palm. 

Turned on his side again, Rhys blinked up at Eskel, already starting to drift. Kneeling down, Eskel gripped Rhys' braid and forced his head back to leave yet another bruise on his throat.  
  


***

  
  
Sliding the last rope through the loops on Rhys’ chest, Eskel pulled it tight, tossing it over the exposed hardwood beam above him. The rope attached to Rhys’ knee quickly followed suit, then the one on his ankle. Eskel pulled at each one until he had them just where he wanted them, Rhys’ knee cocked up in the air slightly, his ankle pulled back up behind him at a dramatic angle. Gathering the ropes in one hand, he brought them together, and took the remaining tails that hung over the beam in his other hand. The leash remained coiled helplessly on the floor and Eskel took care not to step on it as he lifted Rhys off the ground. Pulling up with one hand and down with the other.

Straining to hold Rhys’ weight with one hand Eskel tied the tails to his gathered ropes securely. Gingerly he let go of the ropes and let Rhys weight be taken by the ropes. There was a creak and a slight sag as they absorbed the pressure, followed by a muted sigh from Rhys. Running his hand along Rhys’ braid Eskel watched it drop back down in line with gravity. He looked beautiful like this.

Sorting through his bag Eskel retrieved two more vials of oil and set them on for floor. He picked up the leash and gave it a strong pull to remind Rhys it was still there, then draped it over his own shoulder to leave both his hands free. Coating two fingers in plain oil, Eskel set the other hand on Rhys’ upper hip to keep him from swaying too much. 

“I know you wanted more.” Rhys had taken one finger easily, Eskel didn’t hesitate to press both deeply into him, enjoying the sounds he made at the intrusion. “Remember you don’t have my permission to come.”

This time Eskel did not take any care to avoid Rhys’ prostate. He slid his fingers in and out to oil Rhys up and aimed right for it. Brushing his fingertips over it with every stroke, savoring the way Rhys’ body tried to clamp down on him and pushing right past it. 

Eskel settled on that sweet spot and rubbed against it in small circles, listening to Rhys’ heart rate creep higher and higher, his breathing stuttering in his lungs. Just when Eskel was sure Rhys would not be able to hold back any longer - the drops of precum on the floor were telling enough - he withdrew his fingers and gave a quick sharp flick to Rhys’ tight red balls. “You weren’t thinking of coming were you?”  
  


***

  
  
Rhys jerked in his bonds with a piteous cry. '-m sorry.' He struggled to get the words out, slurring them. '-feelsogood...please.' With great care, he managed to pronounce the last word clearly, twisting his head to catch Eskel's gaze. 

Being suspended like this, body forced to contort itself by the ropes, was strangely comforting. He has settled into the position, had let the ropes hold him. It put strain on his muscles but not a painful one and left him able to focus on whatever Eskel chose to do to him. 

The leash gave minute tugs on Rhys' balls with the slightest movement from either him or Eskel. By now, they were painfully sensitive and every touch was a shock that ran through his whole body. Getting fucked by Eskel's fingers had not helped the problem at all. Spreading him, hitting exactly the right spot and then touching it so very softly. Dangling in the ropes, he couldn't even move against the fingers to make the touch more satisfying.

Muscles trembling, Rhys had endured the teasing as best as he could. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to come and the hard flick to his balls had almost been a relief. At the very least, it gave him time to breathe again.

Eskel stepped around him, carefully bringing the leash to the front so it didn't tangle with the rest of the ropes. With a shuddering sigh, Rhys let his head drop and closed his eyes. 

Glowing red embers had embedded in the copper shine of their auras, flames licking at the gold and green. The glow of Eskel's magic had dimmed with the exception of his medallion, a bright shining orb in the rich gold. Reaching out with his own magic, a touch to the medallion left a metallic taste on Rhys' tongue and the smell of wet stone in his nose.

Every bruise Eskel had left, the numbed patches on Rhys' legs, his cruelly bound balls - all of that throbbed and hummed, dark green tendrils waving like kelp and stinging like nettles when he focused on them. He preferred to drift away from there, pulled by a current that drew him to Eskel. It might have been words or just Eskel's gaze roaming over his body. 

Rhys convulsed and bucked when Eskel licked over his cock, took the head into his mouth. It forced a strangled cry from Rhys, all air suddenly gone from his lungs. Hands kept his hips still and Eskel continued sucking, obviously unperturbed by Rhys' plight.  
  


***

  
  
Rhys’ cock head was warm in Eskel’s mouth, leaking salt and bitter onto his tongue. Pressing his tongue against the slit Eskel sought more of that taste, and Rhys struggled harder in his ropes, Eskel’s hands kept his hips solid though, preventing him from dislodging his cock from Eskel’s mouth. Gods, it was heady. Eskel’s own cock was throbbing to be released, getting harder to ignore where it was trapped stiff in his leathers. Incoherent moans filled Eskel’s ears as he laved over Rhys’ tender cock a while longer.

When he’d had his fill Eskel took Rhys’ cock in his hand firmly, running his thumb up the underside to see if he could milk anymore from it. Squeezing the head to capture one last drop and licking it off his fingers with a scarred half smirk. Braid still swinging softy from his squirming, Rhys looked wrecked— glassy eyed, flushed, and sweaty. He looked _amazing_, and he deserved something good for it. 

Unlacing his leathers and braies Eskel worked them off and kicked them to the side. He took himself in hand and slowly stroked himself, squeezing hard around the base of his cock to keep himself in check. No sense in ending this now. He stood by Rhys’ head, those glassy eyes barely registering him, but maybe he was looking in his own special way. “You’ve been s’good for me.” Eskel placed one hand under Rhys’ head to offer support, easing the strain on his neck muscles, “You wanna have my cock in you mouth?” There was a docile nod from Rhys, his mouth falling open in welcome. 

Tracing the head of his cock over Rhys’ upper lip was torture for Eskel, it was so soft and receptive, promised so much more heat inside and yet tempered it with danger. Those fangs rested just inside and though Rhys’ tusks were not quite as sharp they still looked like they could do some serious damage. He wanted to let Rhys do this anyway, Rhys trusted him and he would trust him back. This was a reward for Rhys, not about him. There would be no wanton fucking of Rhys’ throat, he would take only what Rhys wanted to give right now. Eskel trusted that Rhys would be careful. Resting his cock inside Rhys’ mouth, precariously perched between fangs and tusks, not even touching the back of his throat, Eskel released his grip as Rhys closed his mouth around it.

Eskel held very still. His free hand traced Rhys’s cheekbone, then the shell of his ear around the pointed tip to the lobe and around the curve of his jaw. Gradual deliberate movements, meant to bring Rhys down to earth if only for a little while. To take the edge off of the precipice Eskel was holding him to. A thumb brushed over Rhys’ eyebrow and out to his hairline lingering there, rubbing small circles over his temple. All the while Eskel could feel the heat building in his groin as Rhys mouthed his cock. Could hear his own breathing picking up as he became more and more aroused by that wet heat surrounding him with pleasure. He tried to push it away in his mind to focus on his touches to Rhys, calming and slow. He’d have to stop it eventually - he wasn’t going to let Rhys make him come, but for now, he wanted Rhys to have this.  
  


***

  
  
The taste of Eskel's precum on his tongue had the same metallic undertones as the medallion had left, mixed in with the musk and salt. Rhys savored it, circling the head of Eskel's cock with his tongue and swallowing around it. He opened his mouth wider and moved forward as best as he could to take it deeper, nudging the back of his throat with it. 

With Eskel supporting him, he could maneuver well enough in the ropes to move back and forward, letting the cock glide in and out of his mouth. It was thick and hot on his tongue, the skin soft between his lips. Rhys focused on it, on Eskel's breathing and his moans, and dragged his attention away from his own body. In the background of his mind, the ache in his balls settled. Deep green vines, coiled tightly around fiery red. 

With every pass of Rhys' tongue over his cock, more of that same red threaded into Eskel's aura until the gold floated on top of it like molten gold in a crucible. His soft touches grew distracted and erratic, fingers digging into Rhys' hair.  
  


***

  
  
Eskel enjoyed mastering his own body as much as taking charge of someone else’s but the way Rhys swirled his tongue around his cock was fast pushing the limits of his own control. Eskel moaned, unable to stay silent as Rhys’ hot mouth worked him, drawing the head of Eskel’s cock against the back of his throat. It was intoxicating the way Rhys was determined to satisfy him. Softly worshiping his cock as if there were nothing in the world more important than pleasing him, and Eskel grew more and more preoccupied by the devotion there.

Arousal pulled Eskel’s balls up tight and he held his breath. He could stop this now. Order Rhys to stop. Pull his head back by that dazzling ebony hair. A quick twist to Rhys’ already abused and bruised nipple would end it even. Or Eskel could allow himself this, the rarity of such intense pleasure twice in one night.

Hips jerking forward momentarily with a gasp before Eskel was able to steady himself against the shock of ecstasy, his orgasm washed over him like a wave. Icy prickles of cold heat tingling his skin from his head down to his toes as he spilled himself on Rhys’ tongue. Fingers tightening their grip on Rhys’ scalp through his hair, gasping quietly for air, Eskel rocked forward on the balls of his feet as he rode out tide of euphoria.

Rhys gently lapped Eskel clean. He was careful not to overstimulate, didn't try to tease Eskel. When he was done, he held Eskel in his mouth, tongue playing against the softening cock, never touching the sensitive head. He was reluctant to let Eskel go and gave a quiet whine when Eskel pulled his cock out of Rhys' mouth.

Once Eskel caught his breath, he gave Rhys face one last gentle caress before walking along the front of his body. Pressing a thumb against the nub of a bruised nipple, trailing his fingernails down Rhys’ abdomen. A firm squeeze to Rhys’ hard cock, and an insistent but not as firm rub over those painfully sensitive aching balls. Rhys whimpered and bucked at that last touch. Eskel took the leash off of his own shoulder and threaded it between Rhys’ tied legs and the ropes, pulling it perfectly taut as he moved around behind Rhys. Eventually Eskel settled the leash back onto his shoulder freeing both hands again.

The first time Eskel’s bare hand landed on Rhys’ unmarked ass the noise was startling. Rhys’ head wrenched back to try and look at Eskel as his whole body swayed gently in the air hanging in the ropes. Timing his next strike to increase the way Rhys rocked in the ropes, Eskel landed his hand on Rhys’ other ass cheek with no more force, but it sent him swaying harder anyway.

There was a pause while Eskel simply watched as Rhys rocked cradled in the ropes. Then he struck Rhys twice more, once on each cheek again, in quick succession, waiting a beat and then softer on the inside of Rhys’ thigh—mindful of the bruises he’d already left there. Rhys’ breaths were broken and chaotic, his heart beat speeding along like a mare at a full run. 

When the swaying slowed to a halt and Rhys came to a rest in the ropes, Eskel ran a finger down his spine, over the bear tattooed there with one hand and kneaded Rhys reddening ass with the other. Cock giving a twitch of renewed arousal Eskel knew Rhys could take more, would take more, _wanted_ more. He slipped two fingers into Rhys’ still oiled hole and stroked over his prostate once, twice, before withdrawing and continuing to knead.  
  


***

  
  
Eskel kept Rhys unbalanced in every sense of the word. The blows landing on Rhys' ass and his thighs sent him swinging helplessly in his bonds, no way to still himself. He was jerked back and forth between pain and pleasure and it grew harder and harder to tolerate both.

Every time Eskel's fingers entered him again, Rhys squirmed against them. It was never enough to satisfy him, only just enough to give him a taste of pleasure and leave him wanting to be fucked properly. He whined with frustration.

All it got him was another smack on his ass and another. A softer one to the thigh. Then nothing while he rocked, came to a halt again. A touch to his ass, a palm gliding over the heat. It moved away quickly and Rhys tensed, expecting another blow. 

Eskel gave a warning tug on the leash. Rhys' balls were pulled up tightly against the leather wrapped around them, aching for relief, and the tug made him cry out with pain, shudder with pleasure. He dreaded the moment Eskel would untie them. The ache promising to turn into agony. And there was no avoiding it. Rhys' breath sped up at the mere thought. He didn't have time to calm down before Eskel rained down blows on his ass, his thighs, ending with a slap on his calf, still sore from earlier. 

Rhys sucked down air, trying hard not to sob from the pain. With his ass and thighs burning and his mind reeling, Eskel's fingers in his ass broke through what little self control he still had. 

"-please!" Rhys didn't know if he was begging for Eskel to stop or to continue, but he knew he couldn't take much more. He tried opening his legs wider, begging with his body when soft touches to his prostate took away his voice again. His muscles quivered, pleasure coursing through him like electric shocks.  
  


***

  
  
“Gods, look at you.” Eskel stroked gently over Rhys’ prostate again before pulling his fingers out, running a hand down the back of Rhys’ thigh, over the scarlet red lines where the capsaicin had left its sting. The heat could still be felt there now that the ice had worn off and arousal rose up inside Eskel at the warmth of it under his hand. “So good for me, but I want more.”

Oiling his hand Eskel palmed Rhys’ cock. It was hot and hard, leaking onto the floor again. Rhys’ whole body tensed at the sweet friction, finally. “I want you to show me you can wait for me.” Eskel curled his fingers around in a firm grip, not too tight but solid enough not to tease either, dragging them up and down Rhys’ cock in a steady even pace. Wiggling ineffectually in the ropes Rhys tried to thrust into his hand. A lopsided grin spread on Eskel’s face, “You only get what I wanna give you.” 

Eskel could hear Rhy’s heartbeat thundering along and Eskel knew he was close, had been close before he’d even started stroking him. He kept going, listening to Rhys’ heavy breathing and soft sounds, right up until it was almost too late. Using his other hand he undid the knot holding the leather strip around Rhys’ balls pulling it slightly downward, letting it unwind and fall away. Immediately he cupped Rhys’ balls in his hand and massaged them as the circulation returned. 

Rhys sucked in a lungful of air when the leather came off but when Eskel rolled his balls in his hand he tried to recoil in the ropes letting out a hoarse scream. In his head Eskel imagined he could feel Rhys' balls throb in his hand as he rolled them between his fingers, separating and then fondling them up against his body. He would have been lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy Rhys’ pained screams at least a little. A few more slow strokes to Rhys’ cock just to temper the pain he knew was causing and Eskel decided he was going to do more. 

He moved around to the front, letting the now meaningless leash fall to the floor. Dropping to his knees, Eskel pushed Rhys’ cock forward and out of the way, sealing his lips around one of his tender balls, sucking it into his mouth. Gods it was good, the skin was smoothly shaved and soft. Eskel couldn’t help but run his tongue over it listening to Rhys scream again, moaning harshly with the pain each time Eskel sucked at him.  
  


***

  
  
The pain was everything Rhys had feared and more. It tore him out of his trance-like state as the dark vines of it unwound like a spring, lashing out, thorns ripping the red glow of his pleasure to shreds. He writhed in the ropes, trying and failing to bite back screams. 

Eskel's hand on his cock soothed the pain. His tongue licking and playing with Rhys' balls brought it back. Riding out the waves, Rhys sunk into his aura and let the vines curl around him until they were holding his mind as tightly as the ropes held his body. They pulsed with the rhythm of Eskel sucking on his balls and slowly, gradually, their grip loosened. They no longer sprouted thorns, the pain no longer sharp. 

Rhys arched his back when Eskel stroked his cock again. He needed the pleasure from it, needed Eskel to touch him just right. Not even to make him come, only to calm his frenzied mind. With every touch, the vines grew lighter in color.

It lasted until Eskel licked over Rhys sac and took one of the balls into his mouth again. Immediately, the vines curled tighter and Rhys sucked in a breath, let it out in a whimper. He flailed in the grip of the vines, struggled to focus on the red heat of pleasure almost choked by them. Another whimper escaped him when Eskel took him deeper into his mouth, tongue hot against Rhys' skin. 

Tears stung behind Rhys' eyelids and finally spilled. The pain settled into a deep ache, the vines drawing back into the depths of his aura, burned away by the re-kindled embers of lust. It was too much to keep it all in his mind. He was too exhausted and raw to try and focus. Rhys was vaguely aware that his breath came in long sobs, gulping down air between them. Buffeted by the waves of pleasure surging through him, he let himself drift. Thoughts scattered and aimless, he only sought for the warmth of Eskel's aura, wrapped himself in it.  
  


***

  
  
Sobbing breaths rocked Rhys’ body in the ropes, making Eskel’s cock throb and thicken again. It was exactly what had wanted to hear from Rhys, utter loss of control. The struggle of complete desperation giving way to acceptance. Peace. Eskel let his open mouth rest against Rhys’ oh so tender balls, head turned to see Rhys’ face. He barely let the tip of his tongue skim the surface of Rhys’ skin. The sound of Rhys gulping in air and softly crying it out was sweet. Perfect.

Eskel wanted to reach between Rhys’ legs, slip his fingers back inside, listen to more sobs, watch Rhys’ face as he floated in that convoluted place of pain and pleasure. Make himself the only island of comfort available for the moment, be in control of when Rhys got that relief. Except he’d really only just met Rhys. He wasn’t completely sure where the line between this is perfect and this is horrible was at for Rhys.

Eskel approached Rhys’ face, running his thumb over Rhys’ cheekbone and down to the corner of his mouth. Putting his lips there as close to Rhys’ mouth as he could be without actually letting their lips touch Eskel kissed him. When he drew back he watched Rhys’ face, “Doin’ alright for me?”

Humming back at Eskel, Rhys nodded his head uncoordinatedly. Hot arousal coiled in Eskel’s groin, this was where he wanted to be. The chance to fuck his fingers into Rhys’s ass and stroke his sweet spot again might have passed while he paused to check in on him, but the chance to fuck into Rhys at all was not lost. Right this moment Eskel wanted nothing more than to feel that same heat engulfing his cock.

“Good. You’ve done so so good for me. Done everythin’ I asked.” Eskel played his fingers over Rhys’ bruised nipple, listened to him whimper. A smile played ragged on Eskel’s face, just for Rhys. Moving behind Rhys he took hold of the ropes, “Gonna let you down. Don’ move.” Eskel tensed his whole body and lifted, bringing Rhys up slightly to give himself room to let the knot holding the rig go, then slowly lowered Rhys to the floor.

Working quickly Eskel undid the ropes around Rhys’ arms, his thigh, his ankle, then finally sat behind Rhys and put his arms under Rhys’ and around his chest, pulling him up to lean back against him half reclining. Rhys let out a wet sigh at the contact. The ropes on Rhys’ chest fell away with more effort, Eskel had to physically maneuver him, tipping him back and forth in his arms and against his own chest to unwrap the harness. Eskel kissed the back and sides of Rhys’ neck every time he moved him. Whispering small words of praise with each motion. Reminding Rhys that he was impressed with him, happy with him, turned on by him, wanted to fuck, reward him.

And Gods Above Eskel did want to fuck him. Wanted to be the reason Rhys came so hard he couldn’t remember where he was. Rhys had earned that kind of pleasure from him.

“C’mon, can you hold onto me one more time?” Eskel was squatting in front of Rhys now, draping Rhys’ arms over his shoulders. Rhys hummed back at him, higher pitched and hopeful. “Alright good. C’mere then.” Eskel pulled Rhys up onto his hips and stood up. Legs immediately found their way around his hips, Rhys’ hot leaking cock pressed against his own. Eskel’s hands settled under Rhys’ ass. Lifting and supporting Rhys’ weight, Eskel’s cock throbbed at the heat they found there, cheeks still red and hot from his spanking.

The trip to the massive bed didn’t take long but Rhys took every opportunity to seek comfort in Eskel’s embrace. Nosing into Eskel’s neck and inhaling the scent there, clinging tightly to Eskel’s broad frame, and whimpering when Eskel laid him out on the bed. A hand on Rhys hip to roll him on his side though and Eskel was fast to join him there. Pressing closely up behind him, Eskel ran his hand down the side of Rhys’ ribcage, over his hip, dipping it inside to grip his inner thigh and bring it over his own leg. Deftly he rolled onto his back bringing Rhys’ hips with him.

Shoulders askew Rhys laid on top of Eskel, blanketing him, back to chest, legs pulled open over Eskel’s groin. Drifting and exhausted, Rhys wasn’t able to sit up or move off of Eskel. When Eskel’s hands sought out his inner thighs, pressing into the bruises there, spreading his legs open wider, he could only moan quietly in response. Eskel leaned up a bit mouthing at Rhys’ nipple, his head at just the right place for it, and reached over Rhys’ leg to hold his own cock, pressing it against Rhys well stretched oily entrance. Rhys’ hole contracted against the head of his cock at the touch and Eskel groaned, biting at Rhys nipple.  
  


***

  
  
Limbs too heavy to move, Rhys was completely at Eskel's mercy and he did not mind one bit. With great concentration, he moved his arm out of the way so Eskel could get even closer to him and shifted a little to avoid getting poked by a hip bone. 

Splayed on top of him, being held in place with Eskel's cock entering him excruciatingly slow, it was just what Rhys needed. The languid pace meant he was free to enjoy Eskel's warmth under him, Eskel's muscles moving against his own body.

The pain from the bruises bloomed in green blotches like moss growing at a rapid pace and was burned away almost immediately. This close, their auras flowed together and Rhys couldn't tell one from the other any longer. He just closed his eyes and dove into them, letting the low hum of the wolf's head medallion anchor him. 

He still moaned every time Eskel even slightly nudged his balls but it was no longer the sharp bite that had brought him to tears. It was tempered by pleasure and had grown dull enough that Rhys didn't flinch away from it, even sought it out. 

With his cock buried in Rhys, Eskel paused and kept them both still. Rhys clutched at the sheets so he didn't try to reach for his own cock, leaking on his stomach. Even the little friction it got, tip rubbing against his skin as it twitched with his pulse, was sending shivers through him. Spread open and Eskel's for the taking, but nothing happened. Eskel's cock pulsed inside Rhys' ass and Rhys focused on it, listened to Eskel's heart beat - much slower than his own. 

Rhys whined quietly at being kept waiting.  
  


***

  
  
The heat surrounding him was blissful and Eskel laid still buried inside of Rhys, soaking it up. The way Rhys’ ass throbbed gently around his cock pulled at his balls, and he ached to come. He didn’t want this to end yet though. Slowly he rolled his hips, rocking his cock in and out of Rhys’ body at a painstaking pace. The skin under his hands was smooth as he let himself explore every mark he’d left, pressing his fingers into the bruises on the inside of Rhys’ thighs, moving one hand up to test out the cupping marks on Rhys’ abdomen, then sliding his hand flat under Rhys’ hard cock to press against his stomach.

Increasing the pressure there, when his cock plunged back in Eskel could feel his own hand pushing down, and he could think of nothing quite so arousing. “Fuckin’ hells, you feel so amazin’.” Eskel rolled his hips faster, thrusting into Rhys’ again and again. A high hum was working in Rhys’ throat. Eskel’s hand roamed down around Rhys’ cock to Rhys’ balls. Still tender and sore, Eskel gently threaded his fingers around them, two on either side, and drew them slightly away from Rhys’ body. Rhys stiffened and clenched on his cock, and _fuck if that didn’t feel good_. The high hum derailed into a pitiful whine, and then a hiccuped cry when Eskel’s left hand cradled Rhys’ cock, stroking it lightly. 

Each thrust of Eskel’s hips pushed Rhys’s cock through his fingers doing most of the work for him. His left hand slid lazily up and down Rhys’ leaking cock for a while. When finally he released Rhys’ balls that hand wandered up to tease two fingers over the head, spreading the precum around.

“Open for me,” Eskel demanded, salty slick fingers brought up to Rhys’s lips. Hips still rocking his cock in and out of Rhys’ ass.  
  


***

  
  
Rhys let Eskel push his fingers into his mouth and greedily licked his own precum off of them. He kept licking and sucking just for the taste of Eskel's skin when it was all gone, moaning softly around them.

The pace set by Eskel still was designed to leave Rhys wanting and it worked. The fingers curled around his cock touched only enough to tease, to make him shudder and twitch every time the tip of his cock slid through them. The cock in his ass spreads him open, hot and thick and hard, but it was not _enough_

He knew better than to touch himself, kept his hands on the bed sheets, fisting into them. When Eskel pulled his fingers away, Rhys whined again at the loss of touch. He wanted to push into Eskel's thrusts, rolled his hips, but he couldn't get enough of a hold to do it. Whatever Eskel chose to give him was all that he was getting.

'Please-' Rhys has to try twice to find his voice, the first word just a toneless whisper. 'Please, touch me, make me come! I can't-,' a particularly hard thrust took his voice away and almost tipped him over the edge. Almost. 

Eskel settled back into the slower rhythm and left Rhys so very close to release and not able to find it. 'Please!' Rhys heard the desperate edge in his own voice.  
  


***

  
  
Hearing Rhys beg to be _made_ to come drove Eskel mad with desire, pushing at every button he had when it came to controlling Rhys’ body. He could make Rhys come, he had that power, and Rhys was asking him, begging him even, to use it. Not just to be allowed his own orgasm, but for Eskel to wring it out of him. And he would.

Eskel grunted low and guttural, “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me who’s givin’ you this.” Eskel threaded his right hand under Rhys’ cock again, pressing tight against his abdomen there, thrusting harder and faster. Reveling in the feel of himself rutting up into Rhys steadily. “Then you can come for me.” Teeth grazing at Rhys’ nipple Eskel grunted hard against his skin at the pleasure crawling up his own spine.

Left hand tightening around Rhys’ cock to provide more friction with each rough roll of his hips, Eskel couldn’t stop some of the noises that escaped his own throat when Rhys’s ass tightened around him. Hot breath huffing out on Rhys’ chest, his mouth rested open on it as Eskel fucked into him. Rhythm steady and deep, one hand pressed hard to increase the feeling of it all, the other firming circling Rhys’ cock as it slid through his fingers slick with precum.  
  


***

  
  
_Say it._ Such a little thing yet it was too much for Rhys. Every time he had the words lines up, Eskel would thrust into him, touch his cock just right and they would scatter. And he'd fall back into being reduced to moaning desperately and trying to rut into Eskel's hand. Eskel took away the pleasure of his hand on Rhys' cock when he did that, leaving him aching for it. Only when Rhys kept as still as he could and took just what Eskel gave him did he get more. 

"Eskel, _please_\--" With one hand to his chest, Rhys pinched at his sore and abused nipple, used the pain to ground himself long enough to get a few words out. He was panting and so, so close. "Give-- Make me come, Eskel--" He yelped when Eskel gripped him harder and he thrust upward, all self control lost.  
  


***

  
  
Stroking Rhys’ cock with a firm grip, Eskel rocked his own in and out of Rhys methodically, driving him towards that precipice and right over it. “There you go, c’mon,” Eskel inhaled sharply as Rhys’ body contracted tightly around him. “Fuck,” muttered to himself amid Rhys loud cries and harsh breathing, “Come for me.”

The sounds of Rhys’ pleasure were flooding his ears, and Rhys’ ass was pulsing around him. Body shuddering on top of Eskel, struggling desperately to stay afloat in the waves of ecstasy, Eskel wanted to swallow him up. All he could do though was stroke Rhys right through it, hand gentling over Rhys’ sensitive cock, coming up to his belly to splay in the cum there, running his fingers through it. Warm and sticky. His.

Eskel rolled on his side taking Rhys with him. Scooping a hand under Rhys’ leg he held it aloft in the air, keeping him open for the taking. The other hand still rested against Rhys’s belly, steadying him against Eskel’s thrusts as they got more and more ruthless. Rutting into him with wild abandon, chasing his own release. Eskel pressed his face into Rhys’s back at the base of his neck, lips between his shoulder blades. Wetly mouthing there, kissing and moaning at the tattoos there. “Fuck, fuck. So good for me.” Rhys was so soft against him, letting him have everything and Eskel couldn’t stop himself anymore. Didn’t want to. Icy heat built in his thighs, his gut, crept up his spine, and his mind stilled for a moment as he found pure pleasure there, welcome inside of Rhys’ body.  
  


***

  
  
Rhys drifted for a while, warm and save in Eskel's embrace. His breathing slowed and he wandered through his body. The red fire of his lust was banked down to the glow of embers hidden in the undergrowth, with sparks of gold settled in the branches. Fireflies, left over from Eskel's aura. If he concentrated, he could follow their trails to Eskel. Rhys touched Eskel with his magic and the low hum of the medallion vibrated through him.

There was a deep ache in his balls. His orgasm had been pleasure and pain in equal measures, a last sharp bite of the agony Eskel had subjected him to. The bruises didn't hurt that much right now. Rhys knew he would feel everything in the morning and for days to come. He did not mind at all.

Eskel gave him a last squeeze before gently pulling out of him and letting him curl up. The sound of water splashing into a bowl woke Rhys from his doze and Eskel's hand, rolling him over on his back. 

"That's good, let me take care of you." Eskel's voice was low and soft and Rhys stretched out under his hands, let himself be cleaned, petted and moved around the bed. He kept falling asleep and waking, couldn't tell at times if he was dreaming and didn't care. 

At one point, Rhys woke up to Eskel gently tugging at his braid, unwinding it to remove the leather and rebraiding it. He stirred sluggishly, holding out a hand. Eskel took it and gave it a squeeze. 

"Feeling alright?" A finger quickly traced one of the creatures on Rhys' wrist before Eskel returned to finishing the braid.

"-s," and a nod was all Rhys could manage for an answer. 

It got a quiet laugh from Eskel. "Good. Do you want some food? A drink?" 

With a sigh, Rhys rolled over on his side to face Eskel, took his hand again. "-want you to hold me, please."

And Eskel did, stretching out next to Rhys and pulling him to his chest. Rhys found a little energy and rolled Eskel over on his back so he could lie on top of him. His head on Eskel's chest, Rhys listened to Eskel's slow heartbeat, the medallion humming softly, leading him to a deep and dreamless sleep.

Art by [Thanatopsiturvy](https://www.pillowfort.social/thanatopsiturvy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The fourth chapter! We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> CONTENT INFO:  
Rope Bondage  
Suspension Bondage  
Cock and Ball Bondage  
Spanking  
Orgasm Denial  
Anal Sex  

> 
> ~~~
> 
> This work is a collaboration between [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) and I. This work is a crossover between our worlds of Shadowrun and Witcher. Rhys is bookscorpion's wonderful OC who is featured with Duncan in the series [Changing of the Light](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266935).  
This series of fics takes place starting in the later chapters of my witcher fic [Finding Center](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039/chapters/44157295) (starting around Ch 15-16) continuing through its conclusion, and some ambiguous time after bookscorpion's [The Unconsenting Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234428/chapters/43142189).  



	5. Fear and Pleasure in Novigrad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Silently Geralt begged his cock to stay relaxed about things for just a little while longer, at least until he got his pants off. Or until Duncan got his pants off, since he was now helpless to remove them himself. Geralt closed his eyes and took one deep breath, letting it out slow, failing to make it sound any less like a whine than it was._  
Duncan and Geralt get to play.

The room spun around him as Geralt’s face connected with the wall. Cheek pressed flush with the sleek mahogany wood of one of the Passiflora’s rooms for rent. Geralt blinked in sudden confusion. _What the Hells, had just happened?_ In the moment he took to register Duncan throwing him against the wall, his arms were yanked behind his back. One connected to the other with a quick move, an abrupt heft of metal tapped once on his wrist, and a _crrrrk_—suddenly heavy metal was looping his wrists. Geralt wasn’t even sure how. Duncan still had one hand gripping the back of his shirt forcing him against the wall roughly, and he was sure shackles couldn’t be put on with one-handed like that. Geralt heard the door slam shut, Duncan must have kicked it closed? Both his hands were still on Geralt.

Body jerking in Duncan’s grip as he was pushed further up the wall, Geralt groaned. Fuck, that was so fast, he was still reeling. Barely in the door and already he couldn’t even move his hands. Duncan hadn’t even given him the chance to take off his tunic. _I know he said we were going to start as soon as we got in the room, but damn I thought he would at least shut the door first._ Geralt could already tell his breathing was speeding up, heart beating like a rabbit's in a snare. It wasn't easy to startle a witcher, but Gods if Duncan couldn’t pull it off, and the scare was exhilarating and arousing all at once. Silently he begged his cock to stay relaxed about things for just a little while longer, at least until he got his pants off. Or until Duncan got his pants off, since Geralt was now helpless to remove them himself. Geralt closed his eyes and took one deep breath, letting it out slow, failing to make it sound any less like a whine than it was.  
  


***

  
  
Duncan had let his training take over, moving in one fluid motion from grabbing Geralt to closing the handcuffs. He allowed himself a little smile at the startled hitch in Geralt's breath. With two swift and none too gentle kicks, he spread Geralt's legs wider and put more weight on the arm holding him against the wall.

"You're mine now, to do with as I please." The low growl of Duncan's voice caused another audible hitch in Geralt's breath. This was going to be _fun_. Reaching around, Duncan grabbed Geralt's cock, trapped in his leathers, and gave it a squeeze. He didn't take his hand away, kept rubbing circles with his palm. He had no plans to remove those pants any time soon and he savored how fast Geralt's cock hardened under his touch.

"You're very eager to start." Another firm squeeze and Duncan took his hand away, to another whine from Geralt. "I like that. I plan to get some use out of your cock tonight." 

He grabbed Geralt's ponytail and pulled, forcing his neck into a tense curve. "Tell me, what will happen to you when I give you back to Eskel? After I used you, had my fun with you?"  
  


***

  
  
Biting his lip to keep from making anymore telling noises, Geralt held his breath for a moment. Duncan already _knew_ what was going to happen to him, “He’ll be jealous, just like he said. Some things are only for Eskel.”  
  


***

  
  
That got another smile out of Duncan but he was careful not to let it show in his voice. "Is that so." He let go of the ponytail and flipped Geralt around, slammed him into the wall again with his forearm across Geralt's chest. With his free hand, he traced a line down from Geralt's ear along his chin, tipping his head back with two fingers. 

"I will take whatever I want from you. I don't think he'll be only a little jealous when you tell him." Duncan grinned and leaned forward so he could speak directly into Geralt's ear, after a quick sharp nip to the earlobe. "I don't think you can just be nice to him and be forgiven, do you?"  
  


***

  
  
Hair let loose as fast as his back hit the wall, Geralt felt his shoulders creak with the force of it. Arms trapped behind his back. One of the things Geralt loved about Duncan was his massive strength, even more so than a witcher. It was rare to find, and usually it was a something, not a someone. Downstairs he had asked to be thrown around and made to feel weak and Duncan was delivering. It was a headrush in more than one way, and Geralt really wished his cock would calm down, because his leathers weren’t getting any looser.

The arm across his chest caused him to concentrate harder on breathing, and he was sure he’d missed something Duncan had said. _“I will take whatever I want from you.”_ though, that brought him sharply back to reality. Gods, that was true in so many ways and despite having discussed it downstairs, that terrified him.

The nip to his earlobe made Geralt groan loudly before he could catch himself, cock throbbing in his leathers. Duncan’s breath whispering hotly over his ear. Fuck, he wanted this. Wanted Duncan biting him, pushing him, grabbing him, groping him like a piece of meat. He couldn’t even lie about it.

“He’ll be pissed at me. He’ll see whatever bruises you leave on me and want to cover them up with his own. Probably won’t even let me come when he does it.” Geralt swallowed hard at the thought, it was as arousing if not more so than what Duncan was doing it him right now. And just as inescapable.  
  


***

  
  
"Mhm, that's what I thought. When I'm done with you, he'll have a lot of work, making you his again." Duncan drew back a little, only to lean in and bite at Geralt's throat, sucking at the skin until he had left his first mark. Visible for everyone to see, almost impossible to hide.

He pushed his thigh between Geralt's and kept pushing upwards until Geralt had to stand on his toes not to get his balls painfully squashed. One hand slipping under Geralt's shirt, he followed the scattered scars to Geralt's chest until he found a nipple to squeeze. Let go, rubbed his thumb over it and squeezed again. 

"If you want to come tonight, you better ask me for permission. Maybe I'll even make you, but don't count on it." Taking a quick step back, he let go of Geralt completely and saw him stagger slightly. Ponytail dissolving, pupils wide and black and breath coming quickly, Geralt already was coming undone.

Duncan unlaced his pants and took himself in hand, stroking his cock slowly. He let Geralt watch for a minute before he caught his gaze. "Get on your knees and open your mouth."  
  


***

  
  
How had he never noticed Duncan’s voice before? So low it was a growl, a constant threat in a way he didn’t remember from last time. It seemed to flow right through him and down to this groin, only further aggravating the tightness of his leathers. _Ask for permission? I’ll beg for it._ The desire to beg Duncan was already tugging at his lips. And then Duncan dropped him down from his toes and Geralt had to move quickly to maintain his balance without the use of his arms.

Once Geralt had asked Eskel to use shackles on him, and Eskel had demurred in favor of something softer. While Geralt loved ropes around him, holding him tight, the metal biting into his wrists was exhilarating. It had no give at all. It was as solid as Duncan himself, weighty. It reminded him of the way Duncan had taken him last time, with a hunger and brute strength like no other. Geralt coming all over the bed like a used whore. 

Duncan wasn’t going to give him something softer, he’d have to remember not to fall over the edge without asking this time, or he was sure Duncan would make him regret it.

Watching while Duncan stroked his thick cock was torture. Geralt wanted nothing more than to be good for Duncan. To taste it. To please him. So when Duncan caught his eyes and told him to get down and open his mouth, Geralt dropped to the floor at once. Knees landing hard on the wood with a thud that knocked the air out of his lungs unexpectedly. He almost wobbled a moment before his core muscles kicked in and kept him upright.

Shuffling forward on his knees made them sting but Geralt shoved the pain away. It was precarious leaning forward without his hands but he did his best not to topple over and nuzzled his face against Duncan’s crotch. He opened his mouth and licked up Duncan’s cock to the tip, mouthing over the head for a moment before resting back on his heels. Mouth open, tongue out and flat in invitation: come take what you want.  
  


***

  
  
Duncan had winced a little at Geralt simply dropping to his knees, that _had_ to have been painful. Geralt seemed fine but Duncan reminded himself to be careful - Geralt was a little too prone to get lost in scenes like this. It was up to Duncan to watch out for him.

Stepping closer, he put two fingers smeared with precum on Geralt's tongue and had him eagerly lick it off. He cupped Geralt's face, ran a thumb over his cheek.

"You alright?" A nod from Geralt and Duncan settled back into his role. "Good. I know you want my cock but there's no reason to hurt yourself over it. I'm going to give you plenty of bruises, don't worry."

He let that sink in for a moment before pushing the head of his cock into Geralt's mouth. A moan escaped him when Geralt licked over it, started sucking on it immediately. It took all his self control not to push deeper. It wasn't like Geralt would have minded, but Duncan preferred to let him set the pace for now.

And he got what he wanted anyway when Geralt leaned forward to get more of his cock, mouth warm and wet around it. Duncan steadied him with one hand to the shoulder, his other hand lightly petting Geralt's hair. His cock nudged the back of Geralt's throat and Duncan pulled back a little. There would be time for that later.

"Don't get greedy. When I want your throat, I'll take it." A quick tug on Geralt's hair, enough to tip his head back and make him look up at Duncan. Holding Geralt's gaze, Duncan pushed back in and started fucking his mouth at a slow pace.  
  


***

  
  
Calm seeped into Geralt a little at those words. Duncan _would_ take what he wanted when he wanted, Geralt needed to trust that. Needed to let Duncan be in charge of this and stop pushing so much, even if he was feeling so very needy, and greedy, and slutty right now. 

Looking up into Duncan’s eyes Geralt relaxed and let Duncan have his mouth as he wanted it. Slow and wet, tongue running along the bottom of his cock softly but not trying to seek more. It wasn’t what Geralt wanted but he would wait.

Cock swollen and aching trapped behind the tight leather of his pants, Geralt whined. It was torture, but it was good too. The pressure was satisfying in a different way than friction. Like Duncan holding his cock in his hand. Duncan’s hand had been better though because of the rub of the heel over his cock.

Geralt tried to tip his head a fraction into Duncan’s hand in his hair at his scalp. The cock withdrew from his mouth and Geralt groaned. Again this wasn’t what he wanted. The hand in his hair pulled up slightly.

“Get up.” Duncan stepped to the side and put one hand under Geralt's bicep to steady him, grabbing the back of his leathers to help hoist him up.

Much more careful this time, Geralt stepped up from one knee and then the other, turning to face Duncan for further orders.

Duncan stared back at him, face unreadable. “Turn around and start walking. Towards the bed.”

Heart speeding up Geralt turned to follow his orders. Duncan would take what he wanted. Two steps forward and Duncan’s hand was shoving at his back; hurrying him along, making him stumble with his strength. Feet gone from underneath him all of a sudden Geralt’s mind panicked, heart rate skyrocketing and breath stalling in his lungs. The ceiling was in front of him and then Duncan’s thick arms were around him. Manhandling Geralt, before he was sent through the air and landed on the bed with a bounce. 

Barely skidding to a halt on the mattress and Duncan had pounced on top of him already. Weight and muscle and energy landing everywhere. Geralt was dazed and aroused. Harder than he could remember being in a long time, his breath stuttered out in short aborted moans as he struggled under Duncan. Mind still spinning so much that he wasn’t even sure if he was trying to escape or rut up against Duncan at this point.  
  


***

  
  
Duncan let his weight do most of the work of keeping Geralt trapped under him. He let him struggle just to make it clear to Geralt how helpless he was here. When Duncan had had enough, he grabbed a fistful of Geralt's hair again, exposing his throat, and bit down. Not hard enough to break the skin, but he was sure his tusks would leave a mark anyway.

He gave a low growl deep in his chest and Geralt stilled under him. The only movement was his breathing, chest rising and falling quickly, each intake of air a little gasp. Geralt's heart raced, every beat pulsing in his throat against Duncan's tusks and tongue.

With slow movements of his hips, Duncan rubbed his cock against Geralt. It slid over the smooth leather, pressing against the bulge of Geralt's cock, and Duncan closed his eyes with a moan. Still biting down, Geralt's smell was strong in his nose and he breathed in deep. Salty sweat with a metallic tang, a sharp note under the pleasantly soft smell of leather.

Letting go, Duncan sat up and took in the sight of Geralt, spread underneath him. All his for the taking. Geralt's eyes were unfocused and he blinked, visibly pulling himself together.

Duncan touched his face, a quick brush with his fingertips. 'Stay.'

It didn't take long for him to undress and for once, he just piled his clothes on a chair, not bothering to fold them. A quick check: there was a chain attached to the bed frame, hanging over the side at at the head of the bed. Just like he had asked. 

Grabbing his bag that he had had brought up before, he piled a couple of things on the nightstand: oil, a bowl for the handcuff keys, panic snaps, a Baoding ball with a pleasant heft to it that gave a soft chime when he put it down, a couple of clover clamps. He had brought those along with the handcuffs because he assumed Geralt would enjoy them. So far, he had guessed right.

Geralt was much too dressed. Duncan wanted to feel Geralt's skin on his own, his scars and his sweat. With a casual shove, he flipped Geralt on his stomach and sat on him, careful not to let him feel too much of his weight. Just enough that moving would be hard. Duncan unlocked the cuffs around one wrist, and pulled Geralt's shirt up, moving Geralt around at will until the shirt was off and thrown to the side.

"Turn over." Duncan left Geralt room to do it before holding him down again. He grabbed Geralt's wrist and pulled his arms over his head, stretched out on top of him. Geralt's skin was hot against his own, the scars hard lines, muscles moving under it all. Without bothering to look at what he was doing, his face buried against Geralt's neck, Duncan cuffed Geralt's wrists again. A small shudder ran over Geralt at the sound and Duncan grinned.

"Keep still. Or I'll make you regret it." Duncan sat up and went to work removing the rest of Geralt's clothes.  
  


***

  
  
Geralt wished Duncan had used the fancy metal shackles to put his hands behind his back again. It was so much easier to stay out of trouble when his hands weren’t available to him, and even though they were held together unbreakably in front of him now, they weren’t exactly unavailable. Things were still reachable.

The order to stay still was fresh and Geralt wanted to obey it desperately. Didn’t want to turn and look to see what things Duncan had set on the nightstand, even though the impulse to do it was clawing at his mind. _ Don’t disappoint Duncan, he will give you what you need. _ Instead Geralt focused in front of himself-- on Duncan. The way his flawless olive skin hugged his muscles. How those muscles bunched and relaxed as Duncan removed Geralt’s boots. How Duncan’s tusks gleamed dully in the light, reminding him of how erotic they felt against his neck, no doubt leaving marks there that Eskel would see later. That everyone would see, Duncan hadn’t bitten him in an easily covered spot.

Cock throbbing in his pants at the thought, Geralt fought the urge to raise his hips. How long had it been already? Duncan was only unlacing his leathers. His hands right there if Geralt pressed up into them. No, he was told not to. 

Geralt whimpered, soft in the back of his throat. At least he wasn’t told to be quiet too. His hands itched, fingers tingling painfully from the urge to _move_, to touch. Himself, Duncan, it didn’t matter, he just couldn’t stand to wait and be still.

Taking a deep breath in and holding it to the count of five before exhaling slowly through his nose, Geralt felt his leathers sliding down his legs. _Close, so close. Don’t move._ The laces of his braies were undone and the air of the room stirred his cock. Geralt felt his fingers twitch.

“-please hurry!” Geralt blurted out. Sucking in a breath he begged without shame at all, “Please, Dunca-, Sir. I need to move or,” the air rushed out of him in what very nearly sounded like a sob, “be kept from moving.”  
  


***

  
  
Duncan folded braies and leathers and tossed them at the chair before positioning himself over Geralt on his hands and knees. It gave him a thrill to hear Geralt begging and it was tempting to push him even further. But one look at Geralt's wide open eyes and the naked desire in them was enough to make him relent. 

"You can touch me. Keep your hands off my cock, you have to earn that." He settled on Geralt's stomach, knees pressed into his sides. Leaning forward a bit so Geralt could reach better, Duncan closed his eyes and allowed Geralt to explore. His own hands trailed over Geralt's chest and up his neck, one hand caressing Geralt's ear, scritching the stubble of his undercut.

The chain between the cuffs jingled quietly when Geralt moved, the only thing to be heard except for their breathing and occasional moans. Geralt's fingers were calloused and rough but gentle as they followed Duncan's muscles. Up his arms to his chest, down to his stomach, skirting his cock, until they reached his legs. Then they retraced their steps and brushed Duncan's face. He moved into the touch, let Geralt cup his face and gave a long shuddering sigh when Geralt ran a finger over his ear, bending the tip slightly. 

Duncan opened his eyes and placed a kiss on Geralt's palm. He took Geralt's hands and pushed them down over his head again. 

"If you behave, you can have more later." Grabbing the flask of oil from the nightstand, he handed it to Geralt. "I want to use your cock. Prepare yourself for me, let me see you stroke yourself."

Moving back, Duncan licked over Geralt's cock, sucked on the tip for a second. With the salty taste of Geralt's precum on his tongue, he sat between Geralt's legs to watch.  
  


***

  
  
Groaning roughly at the feeling of Duncan’s mouth around the head of his cock Geralt tried to control his heart rate. Tried and failed miserably. Duncan was going to take what he wanted. And what he wanted was something that Geralt didn’t give. Hadn’t given to anyone except Eskel the two times he had managed to convince Geralt to try it and neither of those had ended well. It always ended in pain and heartache.

The instinctual drive to hyperventilate was attempting to win his body over. Gods only knew why his cock was still hard as a rock. Geralt’s hands shook minutely as he spilled some oil onto one, recapping the flask and letting it fall on his hip. Normally he would use one hand but having them held so close together by the metal around his wrists prompted Geralt to use both, sliding them up and down his shaft. Slicking it up for Duncan.

At the thought of Duncan sitting astride him, Geralt’s cock jerked in his hand and he moaned. He wanted to curl up and turn on his side. Say no, it's too much. But this was Duncan, not Eskel. Geralt couldn’t hurt Duncan if Duncan was in control of everything and he most definitely was. This was what Duncan wanted from him, they’d talked about it. It was also what Geralt wanted from Duncan—to be scared. Not many things scared Geralt in the same way as the idea of his cock in another man’s ass. He couldn’t fathom how Duncan would enjoy this, even though Geralt loved it himself. 

Hands rising and falling on his own cock, Geralt realized he was holding his breath. Letting it out he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Squeezing his eyes closed hard, Geralt tried to focus only on the pleasing sensation of his hands slipping up his cock, fingers rubbing at the head before wandering down again. His breath hitched again, and he held back a quiet sob.  
  


***

  
  
'Enough.' Duncan took hold of the chain between the cuffs and moved to sit on Geralt's stomach. He put the oil flask on the nightstand again, grabbed one of the panic snaps and attached the cuffs to the chain. It held Geralt's hands safely over his head, too short for him to move much. 

Geralt still had his eyes closed and Duncan touched his face, brushing a thumb over his cheekbones. 'Look at me.'

There was real fear in Geralt's eyes, but it wasn't fear of Duncan. They had talked about this and Duncan still was sure he was doing what Geralt wanted. He picked up the metal ball and let it roll on his palm in front of Geralt's eyes. Its chime was loud and clear. Duncan put it in Geralt's hand, closed his fingers around it.

He moved back until his cock was pressed against Geralt's, hot and achingly hard. Geralt took a deep shuddering breath but didn't look away. 

Duncan let a slow, dangerous smile curl his lips. 'I know you don't want to give me your cock. You want mine and maybe you'll get it, but first I'm going to use you, fuck myself on your cock.'

He paused, leaned closer and the smile turned into a snarl. 'There's nothing you can do about it. You belong to me.'

Saying it, he tapped Geralt's fist holding the metal sphere with two fingers, reminding him that he _had_ a way out. Geralt's breath came in short gasps, his pulse jumping in his stomach. But he held Duncan's gaze, pressed his cock against Duncan's.

Kneeling over him, Duncan took Geralt in hand and gave his cock a few strokes before setting it against himself. One hand to Geralt's chest, holding him down, Duncan slowly took his cock. He fucked it into himself, breathing deeply as it slipped in and out of him, spreading him open. Finally, he had taken it all and settled on top of Geralt. 

With Geralt's warm length pulsing inside of him, Duncan leaned forward to lick over Geralt's nipples, biting at them until he had forced a pained groan from Geralt. He put his hands on Geralt's shoulders and let his weight keep Geralt in place. Slowly, Duncan started to roll his hips. It made Geralt's cock slide out and back in just the smallest amount and he wanted more of it. He would have liked to have Geralt fuck up into him. But there was no sense in pushing him too far too fast. And there was more than enough pleasure in taking this from him, letting Geralt feel his strength and making him helpless.  
  


***

  
  
Hearing Duncan say he belonged to him reached inside Geralt and settled him. He liked belonging to people, having someone own him, having a home and someone to watch out for him. Eskel was really who he belonged to and Geralt _knew_ that, knew he’d pay the price for letting Duncan own him for the night but Eskel couldn’t own him for _this_. Not yet at least. Maybe not ever. He didn’t know, really. And it was much too hard to think about it with Duncan looming over him.

This was Duncan’s now, Geralt realized, as his breath came short and fast. Something Duncan had that even Eskel didn’t. In stunned silence Geralt watched Duncan’s face, unable to look away as he worked himself down on Geralt’s cock. The heat of Duncan’s body around him barely even registering over the din of his heartbeat in his ears, and the shock of it all. This was happening and he had no control at all over it. Hands held above his head by the metal rings, Duncan’s massive thighs keeping him in place, preventing him from fleeing.

Pressure was building behind Geralt’s eyes, tears waiting to spill free. He wanted to cry, or scream, but he couldn’t. He was frozen by the fact that nothing had happened. Duncan was fine. Looking pleased with himself even, when he bent to bite at Geralt’s chest. The rough moan the pain in his nipple drew from Geralt was a relief. Something at last. A break in the dam, letting it all free. He squeezed his eyes closed finally and a few tears rolled out that had built up there.

Duncan bit at his nipple again, harder, and rolled his hips ever so slightly. Geralt moaned in pain, so very good, at the sensation. His nipples drawing his mind away from what was happening as Duncan’s ass slid off and back on his cock a bit. It was good in its own way, hot and tight. In between the rough moans slipping from his throat Geralt heard a giddy low laugh. His own though he barely recognized it. Duncan was fine. Duncan liked this and wanted it. He almost wished he could touch Duncan now.  
  


***

  
  
There was a moment when Geralt seemed almost ready to break into tears and a few did spill. But it was over before Duncan could react, merged with a breathless laugh and a break in the tension. Duncan sat up and raised himself on his knees, so high that only the tip of Geralt's cock was still inside him, before sinking down on it again. Doing that a few times was enough to have him shuddering, his cock leaking precum on Geralt's stomach.

He flicked a finger against one of Geralt's nipples, grinned at the sudden intake of breath. "I enjoy having you. You're getting a reward. You want me to hurt you?'

Another loud breath and Geralt nodded. "Yes. Please, Sir, hurt me." He spoke very carefully, looking straight at Duncan while he said it.

Duncan had to stretch to reach, but he managed to take two of the clover clamps from the nightstand without having Geralt's cock slip out of himself. He traced one of them around a nipple, letting Geralt feel the cool metal. Pinching the nipple hard before letting the clamp snap shut on it, he watched Geralt for a reaction before repeating the same with the second nipple and clamp. Geralt seemed a little disappointed.

"Don't worry. They will hurt soon enough and most of all when I take them off." Duncan flicked both clamps and pulled slightly on the rings on their ends, making them shut tighter. Geralt gave a quiet whimper.

Riding Geralt slowly, Duncan took his pleasure from him. He set a leisurely pace - he had plans beyond this and they did not involve coming just yet. So he fucked himself for a few long thrusts before letting Geralt feel his weight again while playing with the clamps. 

The first time he took them off, Geralt only whined. The second time, attached to nipples that had only just turned from white to dark red and after a slightly longer wait, Geralt yelped. The third time, he cried out and cried out again when Duncan pinched the nipples between his fingers, sucked on them while the blood rushed back into them. And he thrust upwards into Duncan in a reflex, looking for pleasure to ease the pain.

"That's right, give me your cock." Duncan growled, let the clamps snap shut again and gave them a tug. He didn't allow Geralt too much room to move, just for a short thrust upwards, still held him down with his hands to Geralt's chest.  
  


***

  
  
The pain had spread from Geralt's nipples like a fire rapidly engulfing him. From his breastbone to his shoulders, everything had begun to ache now. Each time Duncan let the metal close over his nipples again Geralt couldn’t stop himself from crying out in pain. 

Humming in the back of his throat Geralt tentatively pressed his heels into the bed, thrusting up that last inch into Duncan. There was nothing else he could move, his arms were still tethered above him and his chest was held solid under Duncan’s hands. 

It felt good, eased the fierce pain in his nipples that threatened to overtake him and send him floating. Geralt wanted to feel this. Relaxing down again, Duncan’s mouth trailed away from his nipple, only to be replaced by the metal again. The air punched out of Geralt’s lungs at the change from Duncan’s heated mouth sucking at him to the cruel metal squeezing him relentlessly.

Crying out again Geralt thrust his hips up, pressing his cock into Duncan, wanting to please him. To thank him for the pain. It was almost too good. Hips settling back down Geralt huffed out a breath and bit back a pained moan when Duncan toyed with the clamps.

"Go on, keep moving. You're doing so well.” Another flick to Geralt's nipple emphasized Duncan's encouraging words. "I'm going to take it anyway, you might as well give it to me."

The pain pulled Geralt higher and higher. Cock throbbing inside Duncan’s ass, Geralt let his hips rock up in a disjointed rhythm, the only thing he could manage to hold onto in his haze. It was alright, Duncan wanted this. By the look on his face he was enjoying it as much as Geralt enjoyed each time Duncan sucked his tormented nipples into his mouth to run his tongue over them. 

It was intoxicating to know that his cock was pleasing Duncan in such a way. No pain. No heart ache. Only pleasure and bare open faced greed. Duncan _ wanted_ Geralt’s cock. Shuddered at it each time Geralt rolled his hips up and forced that last inch into him. Rocked back against it and sank down on it, pinning Geralt in place. Praised Geralt for letting go and giving him this. A full body tremor ran through Geralt and didn’t want to ease. 

Gripping the ball in his hand hard Geralt tried to relax. Duncan would give him what he needed, was giving it to him now, even, but he wanted more. He wanted more bruises, more to show that he had been Duncan’s for the night. Wanted Duncan’s cock, and Duncan’s marks. He couldn’t be greedy though. Duncan had made that clear. There was a slow pace to this that Duncan was setting and Geralt had no way to hurry that along. Geralt turned his head to the side and buried his face against his arm to calm himself. He just needed to wait, that was never something he was good at though.  
  


***

  
  
It was time for a break, for both of them. Duncan would have loved to make Geralt fuck him to his orgasm but that would have been too quick. And he knew Geralt would be disappointed.

Taking the clamps off, he pinned Geralt down with his full weight until Geralt had stopped shuddering. He let Geralt's cock slip out while he leaned over him to open the panic snap and took hold of the cuffs. For a moment, he had to keep still and just breathe to calm himself. 

The sight of Geralt under him, all his for the taking, hungry for whatever Duncan chose to do to him, didn't help at all. White hair spilling out of the ponytail, golden eyes still shining from the tears not cried, skin flushed and covered in sweat. Nudging Geralt's legs apart, Duncan sat between them and pulled Geralt up into a hug, cuffed hands between them. 

"That was so good." Nuzzling Geralt's neck, he murmured into it, running both hands up Geralt's back to his neck. On the way down, he curled his fingers and traced lines with his fingernails, did it over and over again until the skin was hot and tender to the slightest touch. 

Geralt squirmed in his arms and put a palm against Duncan's stomach, his chest, held on to him. He inched closer and closer to Duncan's cock, obviously unable to resist the temptation. When he had almost made it, Duncan gave him a shove that made him bounce on the mattress again on his back. 

With the rings on the clamps threaded through the closed end of the panic snaps, Duncan let the clamps bite down on Geralt's nipples again. The weight of the snaps pulled on them and Geralt flinched. He flinched even harder when Duncan attached the snaps to each end of the chain between the cuffs.

"You can touch what you can reach. Don't go pulling off the clamps." Duncan touched Geralt's hand that held the chime. "Do you want to keep that?" When Geralt let it drop into his hand, Duncan put it in the bowl on the nightstand, for now.

He traced his finger down Geralt's stomach, completely avoided his cock and took his balls in hand, fondling them. He watched Geralt figure out immediately that the slightest move meant pain for him and move anyway, mixing the pleasure from Duncan's touch with the bite of the clamps.

Crouching over Geralt, Duncan licked at Geralt's balls and then set out to leave a trail of bite marks and bruises from his inner thigh over his hip and side and down again on the other side. Sweat and precum left salt on his tongue, a metallic taste from the blood when his tusks cut into Geralt's skin.  
  


***

  
  
Gasping in pain with every little movement, Geralt spread his legs wider. Offering Duncan more access. Nipples long past the fiery feeling from before and into a deep-seated ache that throbbed through his body, Geralt let his wrists move a little just to feel the clamps tighten and tug at him. It made him bite his lip and moan, then gasp for air again when Duncan’s mouth descended on him.

_Fuck._ Nothing compared to the way Duncan’s tusks felt digging into his skin. Duncan sucked hard at Geralt’s flesh, leaving deep bruises. It forced his tusks against Geralt’s skin, and sometimes as Duncan bit down again Geralt could smell the iron, feel the flesh part roughly underneath them. His legs trembled with it. It was painful, not quick at all, but the agony was pure and exactly what he wanted.

And it didn’t stop right away. Duncan worked his skin over, licking and biting. Marking Geralt for his own. The thought of that, of being Duncan’s now, drove Geralt higher. The wilder he felt the more he moved his hands, and the more the ache in his nipples throbbed down to this balls. His cock was dripping slowly onto his abdomen, but being ignored. Duncan had already gotten his pleasure from it, its use was done for now.

Geralt moaned loudly, “Tha-” stuttering out, “Thank you, Sir. Feels so good.” Fuck, Geralt really hoped Duncan knew how much he loved this, that he had bitten him so hard. How much he had wanted this.  
  


***

  
  
Duncan took a moment to take it all in: Geralt writhing before him, abusing himself to heighten his own pleasure, his whole body quivering with the strain. Blood had trickled down his sides from the bites, left glistening trails and stained the sheets. Swallowing, Duncan tasted the blood and shivered. It was enticing to hurt Geralt like this, to not hold back and have him take it all, ask for more even.

Moving up, Duncan grazed Geralt's cock with his own, the ghost of a touch. He knelt over Geralt, just low enough that Geralt's chest nudged him with every rising breath. Geralt immediately ran his hands over Duncan's thighs, reached for his balls. Duncan let him, savoring the way Geralt pulled on his own nipples to be able to touch him.

"You can keep doing that. You've been very well behaved, so you get to stroke my cock. But don't try and make me come." He fisted a hand into Geralt's hair and forced his head back. "I'm going to use your ass for that, spread you open and take you for myself."  
  


***

  
  
Mind spinning, Geralt moved to comply, bringing his hands together and running them up the sides of Duncan’s cock, gauging the thickness there. Imagining it sinking into his ass. Gasping and groaning as every touch he gave Duncan yanked harshly on his abused nipples. 

Geralt kept his touches firm enough not to tease, but slow and explorative more than anything else. He didn’t want to lose this privilege, Duncan’s cock felt good in his hands. Fingertips tracing around Duncan’s balls Geralt fondled them. They were heavy inside his sac and the skin was silky soft around them. The idea of those full balls pressing against his own while Duncan fucked into him made Geralt whimper high in the back of his throat.

Thoughts of Duncan burying his cock inside of him were swarming in Geralt’s mind. The way the stretch would feel delicious, and overwhelming at the same time. How Duncan would take him in such a primal way, unheeding of Geralt’s own pleasure, only seeking his own. Using Geralt for his own satisfaction and nothing more. The speed and strength with which Duncan would pound into him, forcing Geralt against the mattress and just how small and weak it would make him feel. He’d be powerless to stop Duncan once he started. Geralt would have to wait for Duncan to take what was his, what Geralt had agreed to give him. He wasn’t sure he could wait.

“Sir,” Geralt swallowed hard unsure if he should ask yet, but unwilling to fail either and already close just from the promise of Duncan fucking him, “I’m close. Please Sir, may I come for you?”  
  


***

  
  
It was enthralling to hear Geralt asking him for this. As tempting as it was to deny Geralt, he was doing such a good job. The calloused hands that roamed every inch of Duncan’s cock right now clearly had no intent of trying to make him come.

“You’re behaving well. If you can come for me before I decide it’s time to flip you over and use your ass for my own pleasure then yes.” Duncan grinned as he watched Geralt pulled harder on the cuffs, reaching to caress his thighs. Trying immediately to drive himself over the edge. There wasn’t even anything touching Geralt’s cock. And there wouldn't be. He didn't intend to lend a helping hand. Not on Geralt's cock, at least.  
  


***

  
  
“Thank you,” it was a quiet whisper but Geralt was sure Duncan would hear it, “thank you Sir.” Letting his hands roam Duncan’s thighs and cock with his eyes closed, Geralt was heedless of the sharp pull on his nipples, it only served to bring him closer. He wished Duncan would just give the chain a hard yank, make him scream for real. Instead the clamps were simply released and Geralt bit his lip whimpering in pain as blood beat painfully back into the compressed tissue. 

All of a sudden, with the pulsating pain at its peak, the clamps snapped closed again, pinching Geralt’s swollen nipples tight. For a moment Geralt couldn’t breathe, everything hurt perfectly, every bite, every bruise, his nipples were on fire all over again. The clamps were gone—the heels of Duncan’s broad hands were rubbing over his tender nipples—and Geralt sucked in air in short sharp gasps as his cock jerked hard against his abdomen. Thick ropes of cum landing warm and wet on his skin.

It took several moments for Geralt to realize his hands, still bound by the metal rings, were still gripping Duncan’s cock. Everything was hazy, and Duncan still loomed over him. Nothing had touched his cock but he had come all over himself like a wanton whore. Like Duncan’s whore, with Duncan’s permission. He hadn’t even gotten fucked yet.

“I want you to use me to come, Sir. Open me up wide and bury yourself inside. Only two people I let do that to me, and one of them is you.” Geralt felt drunk, and uncontrolled. Duncan should know how he felt and Geralt didn’t feel like he could keep from saying it right now. “Please Du- Sir, please fuck me.”  
  


***

  
  
A sudden shiver ran over Duncan at Geralt's words but it was too much to figure out right now. Time to think would come later. He reached behind himself, where some of Geralt's cum had landed on him, and wiped it off, pushed his fingers into Geralt's mouth.

"Oh I will." With his fingers licked clean, he pulled his cock out of Geralt's hands and moved so he could give him one last bite to the throat. "I like seeing you like this, needy and begging."

With shaking hands, Duncan removed the panic snaps and opened the cuff around Geralt's left wrist. He picked Geralt up and flipped him over on his stomach, cuffed him again, spread his legs wide.

"Remember, you asked for this. I won't stop, I'll use you until I'm done with you." Duncan pushed the chime ball into Geralt's hand again, closed his fingers around it. "Nothing you can do about it if it gets too much. I don't care."

Slicking himself up with oil, Duncan spread some on Geralt's hole. It readily took his fingers and he let Geralt have them while he slowly stroked himself. Moaning quietly, Geralt rutted into the sheets, fucking himself on Duncan's fingers.

"You really _are_ greedy." Duncan pulled his fingers out and smacked Geralt's ass, leaving a rapidly coloring handprint. It forced a cry from Geralt and another when Duncan hit him again. One slow thrust and Duncan finally had his cock up Geralt's ass, savoring how it clenched around him. He breathed deeply, trying hard not to come right away.

Crouched over Geralt, Duncan moved slowly at first, letting Geralt get used to him, teasing himself as much as he dared. He stretched out on top of Geralt, pushing his legs closer together so he could kneel over him.  
  


***

  
  
With Duncan's weight pinning him down, Geralt couldn't do anything but whimper and take it, the air driven out of his lungs with every thrust.

It was everything Geralt wanted. Duncan on top of him, holding him down and taking his ass. It was hot, sweaty, merciless fucking. Even as tightly as his arms were pulled behind him, and with Duncan holding him down, Geralt felt free. He was helpless underneath Duncan and it was the only place he wanted to be. Body loose and light Geralt let himself ride it out, floating amongst the waves of pleasure, slowing being pulled in by the tide. Duncan would be there to pull him back when he was done with him. Geralt was sure of that, he could rest a while.  
  


***

  
  
Duncan fell into a faster rhythm, wrapped an arm around Geralt's chest. It kept Geralt in place and allowed Duncan to fuck into him harder. Pulling almost out and driving back in, his balls slapping against Geralt's. With his free hand buried in Geralt's hair, Duncan forced Geralt's head back until his upper body was arched painfully. Only held by Duncan arm against his chest and the tight grasp in his hair, Geralt was gasping for air, muscles shuddering.

A bite to the shoulder drew blood and a pitiful wail from Geralt. Hearing it shattered the last of Duncan's self control. He let Geralt drop on the mattress and kept him down with one hand between his shoulder blades. Duncan's thrusts became brutal, ruthless. His balls pulled up hard against his body. There was no more playing around. He only sought his relief. When it came, when he spilled himself in Geralt with a breathless cry, it left him exhausted and drained.

For a moment, Duncan kept perfectly still, struggling to breathe, Geralt's ass still hot and tight around him. Moving carefully, he pulled out and very slowly let go of Geralt. The chime ball was still clutched tightly in Geralt's hand and Duncan uncurled his fingers, took it from him. He uncuffed him, turned him on his side. Geralt was pliant and very clearly drifting and dazed.

"Let me take care of you." Duncan pushed Geralt's hair out of his face, caressed him. He had had boiling hot water brought up before they started and it was still pleasantly warm. Using a cloth, Duncan cleaned Geralt up, wiping cum and blood and sweat off of his skin, talking to him in a low murmur.

When he was done and had cleaned himself up, too, Duncan crawled into bed with Geralt and pulled him close. Geralt nestled into him with a sigh, lay motionless again. Duncan nuzzled Geralt's neck and thought about what Geralt had said. About how Duncan was the only person except Eskel who got to take his ass. He wondered if Geralt had been serious. He wished Geralt had been serious even though the idea frightened him at the same time.

Duncan relaxed, sleep tugging at him. They had time to talk about this later. For now, he was content to just enjoy Geralt in his arms, warm and soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT INFO:  
Fear Play  
Biting/Blood Play  
Anal Sex  
Oral Sex


	6. Knocking on Monogamy's Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Can I,” Eskel hesitated for a breath before deciding the worst that could happen was that he could be told no, “would it be alright if I touched you still? I know we’re done, but I’d like to be able to for a while longer.”_  
Just because Rhys and Eskel are done playing doesn't mean it's **over**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays.  
Have some smut!
> 
> ~BBean

Rhys woke with Eskel's arms around him, still sprawled on top of Eskel under a blanket. He stretched and yawned before sliding off to the side, propping himself up on one elbow. Eskel was awake, golden eyes half-lidded, a smile curling his lips.

Moving slowly and lazily, Rhys draped one leg back over him. He rested a hand on Eskel's chest, over his heart. The medallion hummed very gently, the vibration traveling through Eskel's skin into Rhys' palm. It picked up in volume and intensity when Rhys unfocused his gaze, took a quick dip in the soft glow of Eskel's aura. Warm gold, the medallion a brighter spot and his Signs curled tightly away in the depths. Traces of color and a hint of smells, ready to unfurl like leaves folded into a bud.

With a content hum, Rhys pulled his focus back out of the astral plane. He traced circles with the tip of one finger on Eskel's breastbone. "I enjoyed myself very much. Thank you. It's not often that I lose myself so fast and so completely."  
  


***

  
  
For a moment Eskel watched Rhys peacefully. Despite the low light Eskel could see Rhys quite clearly. Watching Eskel back, the green shine of his eyes reflected the light they gathered until he moved and they returned to their normal dark hazel color. And Rhys looked pleased, curious even? It made Eskel proud to know that Rhys didn’t soften so easily for just anyone. He liked the idea of being special, even if felt strange that something special only got to happen once.

“‘M glad I could give that to you.” Eskel wished that Rhys hadn’t slid off of him already, having Rhys put a leg back over him and hand on his chest was comforting though. “I’ve gotta admit that wasn't entirely how I thought the evenin’ would go. ‘M glad I changed my plans, an’ I wanna thank you for all that you gave me.” Taking in the sight of Rhys laying next to him, one leg thrown over him, hair braided neatly again, Rhys looked so gentle and Eskel wished he could touch him. Run his fingers over Rhys’ skin.

“Can I,” Eskel hesitated for a breath before deciding the worst that could happen was that he could be told no, “would it be alright if I touched you still? I know we’re done, but I’d like to be able to for a while longer.” No idea if he was stepping over a line or not Eskel refused to close his eyes while he waited for an answer. It was only a simple request. He craved touch right now after such an intense evening, he shouldn’t feel so unsettled asking for it.  
  


***

  
  
Rhys blinked in surprise. Here he was, nestled into Eskel, and Eskel was still asking for permission to touch? _I know we're done-_ It dawned on Rhys that Eskel seemed to expect him to just leave any minute now.

"You can touch me all you want." He smiled and moved his hand slowly up to Eskel's neck, scritched over the stubble there and under his chin. "We might be done playing but that doesn't mean we are done with each other. I'm in no hurry to go anywhere and I would like to spend some time with you."

He moved a little, to keep his arm from falling asleep and to get even closer to Eskel. "You can say no, but may I touch your face?"  
  


***

  
  
Calmed by the fact that Rhys still welcomed his touches, Eskel reached out and laid his hand on the outside of Rhys’ shoulder. Softly running it up and over his elbow, tracing the lines of Rhys’ tattoos with his thumb, continuing up to his wrist.

Rolling onto his side to face Rhys head on and tangling his legs in with Rhys’ own, Eskel let his hand drift up over Rhys’ carrying it upward towards his scarred face. “I don’ let many people touch me here, but I’d like you to. An’ I wanna know ‘bout the way you look at things without your eyes. You did it again jus’ a moment ago.”

Eskel closed his eyes and set Rhys’ hand against his cheek, enjoying the gentle warmth there that soothed the ever present ache beneath the skin. Slowly he withdrew his own hand over the top, running it back up to Rhys’ shoulder and letting it rest there.  
  


***

  
  
Tucking his arm under his head so he could lay down again, facing Eskel, Rhys traced the scars. Starting at Eskel's temple, over his cheek to his lips. They were softer than they looked, silky even, and Rhys kept running his fingers over them.

"All living things have an aura, like a bubble of life around them?" Rhys struggled a bit with explaining this and not using terms that were too modern. "I can see it - most people who have magic back home can. Sense it is maybe the better word. It's colours and smells and sounds, unique to its owner."

With his hand straying into Eskel's hair, Rhys took a look. "Yours is gold. So is Geralt's, but yours is a bit more reddish. Maybe the gold comes from being a witcher, I don't know. Maybe it's just coincidence. If you were sick, I could see it, maybe even what exactly is wrong. It changes to show emotions - those usually have the same colours for everyone. But it can be hard to see, it's not like we only have one of those at the time."

Rhys moved his hand for a quick touch to Eskel's chest. "Your magic sits here, hidden away. _That_ is a witcher thing and I've never seen that before Geralt and you. My magic is woven through my aura. Yours only comes to the surface when you use it. It looks a little like fireworks." He moved his hands back to the scars.

"There's magic in the scars. I have to look hard for it, but it's there. Not yours. It's sharp in my mind, like glass. Sings like glass, too." Rhys covered the scars with his palm and surfaced back to the mundane world to look at Eskel, read his expression and not his aura.  
  


***

  
  
Listening to Rhys talk was relaxing, the timbre of his voice matching the colorful and fascinating visions he described. When he paused with his palm over Eskel’s scars again, Eskel pressed his face up into Rhys’ touch ever so slightly. Letting the heat soak into his skin and the muscles underneath. Covering Rhys’ hand with his own again, Eskel kissed his palm lightly, opening his eyes to look directly at him.

“Doesn’ surprise me that there’s magic embedded in these scars. They’re not like my others.” Hand wandering away from Rhys’ again, Eskel reached out and touched Rhys’s face, the side of his cheek, the ridge of his jaw, the shell of his ear up to the tip. Gently and slowly tracing his features and committing them to memory.

“I don’ know how much Geralt has told you, but you become a witcher by bein' a Surprise Child first. ‘S why people are afraid we’ll steal their children. Sometimes when there is nothin’ else we invoke the Law of Surprise, an' end up gettin’ paid in whatever the person sees first that they don’t expect when they get home. Sometimes that’s a goat or... a child. I made a choice against Fate an’ refused to take the girl.”

Sighing quietly at the memory, Eskel continued, “Years later, she wanted my protection, claimed we were bound by Fate. People thought she was cursed by the Black Sun, turns out she was a Source, which is a sort of natural channeler of the powerful magic here. Very few’ve ever existed, it’s inherited an’ only by those who are related to,” Eskel paused and tried to figure out how best to explain The Elder Blood and the Aen Elle, “...elves from another world? Most can’t control it an’ go insane. She became very angry that day an’ lost control of her magic—injuring me by accident. These scars are my reminder that every choice has consequences. No one invokes The Law anymore. We don’t need it, we’re the last of a dyin’ breed.”

Eskel hadn’t minded telling Rhys the story behind his face at all. But he had a lot of other things he wanted to talk about too, and he hoped his explanation wasn’t going to dampen the mood. Eskel was still interested in where those colors and auras Rhys talked about came from though. Was it a pocket dimension like a sorcerer could conjure? Or was it always all around them, but hidden from everyone else’s view?

He smiled wide and crooked at Rhys, “So, Geralt showed you all our Signs ‘m sure. Witchers can’t do much magic, ‘m really good with Signs though. But what about you’re magic? You can see these auras. Is that a different dimension then? An’ you’re tattoo, the bear that looks like its from Skellige on your back, that made my medallion vibrate harder when it touched it too, so it must have magic in it. What all can you do?” Eskel rolled back onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Then he glanced at Rhys, “You can come lay on me if you want, I like it when you curl up on me.”  
  


***

  
  
It was a suggestion Rhys gladly followed. He moved around to get comfortable and settled with his head on Eskel's chest, one hand playing in Eskel's hair, winding strands of it around his fingers.

He was curious about the whole concept of the Surprise Child but it was not really a topic for this particular moment. So he followed the direction Eskel had pointed him in.

"Auras are a part of this world. It's just a different way of sensing the world. There are different -dimensions. Astral planes, we call them. It's where spirits live. I can go there, but I leave my body behind to do it. I could even take you. Some of these are dangerous, some not. It depends mostly on what you are planning to do."

Shifting a bit to avoid putting too much pressure on some of his bruises, Rhys slowly pushed one of his legs between Eskel's. "I don't learn magic from books, although other people do. I have a powerful spirit that teaches me and guides me. He appears as a bear, that's why I have the tattoo. And you're right, it's magical. It helps me focus on spells I cast. Healing is something I can do, within limits. I can create illusions and I have a few spells to fight with."

Rhys sat up, straddling Eskel, so he could look at him. "I can conjure spirits that help me and that have their own powers and spells that I don't have. And I can call really small spirits that are not very smart, but useful for simple tasks. Like this."

Holding both hands palms up where Eskel could see, Rhys conjured up a Watcher in the form of a small bear. It ambled around on his palm, snuffling between his fingers as if searching for food. It looked entirely real, fur a dark brown, claws leaving tiny marks on Rhys' skin.

"Would you like to hold it?" Rhys petted the tiny bear with one finger and it sat down on his palm.  
  


***

  
  
The tiny bear breathed and its heart beat slowly. Not an illusion then. Too slow for a real creature so small though, so obviously magical. It was as one _expected _a bear to live and breathe, only so very small. Eskel smirked. Rhys was clearly very talented with his magic, he hadn’t made any obvious motions or spoken when he'd casted.

Holding out his upturned palm without bothering to sit up Eskel watched as Rhys shuffled the baby bear onto it. It weighed no more than a mouse, its small feet padding along his rough skin. At his wrist it looked down his arm, confused, and turned in a circle back to Rhys. Eskel handed it back. It smelled faintly of ozone to him—the leftover magic from its conjuring maybe or the smell of the spirit itself.

Propping himself up on one elbow and running the back of his first knuckle over one of the many marks he’d left on Rhys, a livid bruise from the cup on the inside of his thigh, Eskel admired it. “Witchers don’t have healing magic. Our bodies were broken an' changed as children, mutated to be stronger, faster, immune to disease, an' to heal themselves. Anythin’ beyond that we make potions to take that speed up the process even more, for a price.”

Sitting up all the way, Eskel carefully scooted himself back to the headboard taking Rhys along with him in his lap. Relaxing against it he put his arms around Rhys’ waist. “We can see in the dark, like you, but our fancy eyes are different than yours. An' we can hear everything—smell it too—I heard you laughin’ at me on the stairs.” Eskel shot a mock glare at Rhys, then laughed. “So your hearin’ must be better than average too. What else do you wanna know about witchers that Geralt hasn’t told you? Or is there somethin’ about me that you’re curious about?” Witchers were fascinating beasts and Eskel was sure Rhys had plenty of questions tucked away. He certainly seemed like the inquisitive type.

***

Rhys cupped both hands together, blew into them and spread them apart, revealing no trace of the bear between them like a magician. "Orks don't have hearing as good as witchers but it's not bad." He leaned back, let Eskel hold some of his weight.

Fingertips tracing the scars on his face again, he studied Eskel carefully while he spoke. "Your senses tell you a lot about people, just like my astral sight. And it's not like you can not do it if you chose. But I guess you filter things out automatically so you don't overload."

Rhys bit his lip and hesitated. He didn't want to offend Eskel with his question, but he was curious with how Eskel had reacted to astral sight at first. "Please don't take this the wrong way, I'm just trying to figure things out: do you use Axii on people? Are you comfortable with that?"  
  


***

  
  
The slight pause made it clear that Rhys was thinking carefully about how to ask his question and Eskel was sure he really didn’t mean any offense. There was only genuine curiosity behind it, and it _was _a very good question. “Yes,” Eskel drew the word out, “an’ no not really.” The weight of Rhys against his arms felt so good, like he belonged there. “Axii is horribly powerful, even if used in the smallest ways. I could ruin someone’s life with it, make ‘em say or do somethin’ they would _never_ normally, an’ the consequences of that are tremendous. Too much for anyone to really see. I can even turn another person into my puppet, forcing them to fight for me instead of against me. It’s terrifying in scope."

“So, yes. I have used it, an’ I do. As a last resort to prevent my death, or someone else’s. But not just because some knucklehead needs to answer a question. I have fists for that. An’ I am never really comfortable with it, an’ I don’ think I should be.” Eskel felt like Rhys would understand that. He had the ability to see other dimensions, even go to some of them, it wasn’t as though he was unfamiliar with magic like so many others who would be running away as soon as those words left Eskel’s mouth. Axii was something about witchers that made terror run cold through the people as much as the thought of them stealing their children.

Rhys didn’t seem to be running away though, at all. He’d said he’d like to spend some time with Eskel and he was. It was so like spending time taking care of Geralt afterward that Eskel felt at ease in his role, taking care of Rhys, holding him and talking. Except with Rhys all the words were about getting to know him, and letting him into that private space Eskel normally kept tucked away. It was comfortable and easy, if a little confusing.

“Does that explain what you wanted to know?” Eskel leaned forward impulsively to place a soft kiss over the dark purple marks he’d left on Rhys’ neck, then rested back against the headboard looking at it. _Where did that come from? God’s Eskel keep yourself together,_ he thought to himself.  
  


***

  
  
The kiss had drawn a quiet hum from Rhys and he sat for a moment regarding Eskel thoughtfully. Eskel tensed, suddenly clearly uncomfortable, and Rhys leaned into him, nosing at his neck before very deliberately kissing Eskel's jaw. With a long exhalation, Eskel relaxed again.

"It does, thank you. I have my share of spells that influence people one way or the other and I think it _is _a good thing not to get too comfortable with those." Sitting up straight, Rhys put a hand into Eskel's hair, scritching at his scalp.

"You said _we're done_ just now. Maybe I'm reading you wrong and I'm making a fool out of myself. But do you really want to be done? Because I don't want this to be the only time for us. I want to get to know you, spend a little time with you and Geralt. Maybe play, if we feel like it. And neither I nor Duncan plan to wait another three years before we come here again." Even without looking at Eskel's aura, Rhys was fairly sure that they needed to talk about this.  
  


***

  
  
That moment when Rhys had sat looking at him had dragged on forever. But the simple brush of Rhys' lips against Eskel's jaw had calmed the rising panic, sweeping it away like the flowing of a river. Eskel focused on the fingernails scratching along his scalp as he tried to think of how to answer Rhys' question.

Watching Rhys' face carefully Eskel let his thumb trace tiny circles on Rhys' back. "I don't want to be done with you at all." Sighing softly Eskel continued, "but I don't know how I could be allowed not to be done with us. I love Geralt and you love Duncan. I won't break that for this."

Closing his eyes and focusing on the way Rhys' hand felt in his hair. How it didn't leave while he laid his feelings bare, Eskel took a moment to just breathe and think. "Spending more time with you, with Duncan and Geralt too, sounds amazin'. The thought of having the freedom to play with you again if we wanted, when we wanted, feels perfect. But that's the kind of freedom Geralt has, not me. An' I dont know how to have that kind of freedom. D'ya know what I mean? I never planned on feelin' this way 'bout anyone else 'sides him."  
  


***

  
  
"I didn't exactly plan this either." Rhys laughed softly, relieved that he had guessed right. "You should talk to Geralt about this. I need to speak to Duncan, although we already did talk about it in theory. Not _this _between us, just in general. But discussing something and having it happen are two very different things."

One hand on Eskel's chest, his fingers went wandering over the scars there, drawing absent-minded constellations between them. "There's no right or wrong way to do this, we need to figure it out between us, all of us. You do know you are _allowed _to feel like this and want to have this freedom, yes? Even if you said it would never happen."  
  


***

  
  
“I-” Eskel stopped not sure what he had even planned on saying. Leaning forward and tightening his arms Eskel buried his face against Rhys’ neck and shoulder. Taking the time to simply breathe in the exotic smells of Rhys. Eskel spoke, voice muffled by Rhys’ skin next to his mouth, “-I know that some people need this kind of freedom to be happy—like Geralt—and that’s alright, there is nothin’ wrong with them bein’ who they are. For other people it is never an issue. I didn’t realize that could change, that _my _needs could change like that.”

Even though Eskel was the one holding Rhys, he felt exceptionally comforted and safe snuggled into Rhys’ neck. Eskel didn’t want to move, but he forced himself to draw back and make eye contact anyway. “I know that Geralt feels somethin’ more than a passing interest in the two of you. I knew when he asked me to meet you, an’ maybe even play with you two. You have no way of knowin’ this but: in the nearly fifty odd years that Geralt an’ I have been together an’ not, he has never once asked me to meet someone he’s been involved with. So I knew right away you two meant more to him, an’ I was completely alright with that or I wouldn’t ‘ave come.”

That was easy to explain, that was the side of things Eskel was used to. Not himself feeling this way, but Geralt being this way. That was normal for him. Easy. “Gods, it feels strange bein’ on the other side of things.” Eskel laughed low and soft. “Geralt will probably get it though, when I explain it to him. He’s good at this.”  
  


***

  
  
"I'm sure he will." Rhys shifted, found a more comfortable position with both arms around Eskel's neck, fingers trailing down his spine as far as he could reach.

"I always forget how old you both are. And how long you've been together. Longer than I've been alive." He came even closer, nestling into Eskel. It had given him a shiver to have Eskel hug him like that and he wanted more of it. "Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn't. But I do want to try this and see where it goes."

Using only his tusks, he gave a soft bite to Eskel's shoulder. Only the slightest pressure, not even enough to leave a mark. He licked over the skin, a trace of sweat and metal in his mouth. "Duncan and I have always considered Geralt more than just a fling. We tried to find him again a while back but couldn't and we were glad to hear from him again. Even if it had only been for an evening here or a few days of traveling together."

Rhys smiled against Eskel's shoulder, a little huffy laugh. "And we were both curious to meet you. Duncan, in fact, was ready to go to war if he got the impression that you don't treat Geralt right. He's very protective. But it's easy to see just how comfortable you are with each other. And I appreciate you agreeing to meet us. Even if it hadn't suddenly taken a turn for --whatever this will grow into."  
  


***

  
  
“Enough about all that. We’ll just have to talk to them an’ see how they feel ‘bout it.” Eskel ran his fingers over Rhys’ braid, that he’d gently redone himself, feeling the different sections of hair bump through his fingers. “Downstairs, Geralt an’ I were pretty open about what I like about playing like this. That I am possessive and bossy an’ all that. You jus’ offered yourself up to me though. An’ since I might get to touch you like this again if we both want too, ‘m curious. What about tonight was the best for you, what made you able to let go so much for me? What do you _really _enjoy?”

“I ended up doin’ a lot of things I didn’t plan on which is unusual for me. Not that it was a bad thing, I was jus’ doin’ what felt right as I went, an’ that changed a lot over the night for me.” Eskel ran his other hand up and down Rhys’ back, slow and comforting, then brought it up the trace Rhys’ jaw before resting it in between his shoulder blades. Holding Rhys’ head against him where Rhys had nipped at him whisper soft and licked his skin. That felt incredibly good even though he didn’t like to be bitten hard like Geralt.

The soft contact had been the reminder he needed though that this might be alright. “I stopped doin’ what I wanted and started doin’ what I felt like you needed somewhere in there. I’d rather know from you though, what you really need.”  
  


***

  
  
"Right now, I need you to lie down for me." Rhys gave Eskel a last squeeze and moved back, leaving him room to slide down until he was on his back with Rhys straddling him again. Throwing his braid over one shoulder so it trailed along Eskel's side, Rhys bend over and started kissing a trail down Eskel's chest and stomach.

"I'm not sure why I didn't push, didn't misbehave. I often do, I enjoy it. But it seemed wrong to me. It wouldn't have gotten me anywhere, that was easy to see right from the start. And I liked being controlled this tightly. Not even allowed to move without your permission." He spoke in between kisses and soft bites, tusks and fangs only just touching Eskel's skin.

A kiss to Eskel's hip and Rhys continued upwards again on the other side. "I liked the leash, you've probably guessed. I like things that make it painful when I get fucked or fuck someone. And the leash hit just the right spot for that." He giggled, nuzzling against Eskel's flank. "I don't think my balls will forgive me for this in a hurry, but I'm up for doing more of it."

Rhys placed a kiss on Eskel's nipple, looked up at him and very slowly and gently pinched it with a fang.  
  


***

  
  
All that contact—skin, teeth, tiny bits of tusks and fangs—was everything Eskel needed at the moment. After an evening of being so completely in control of Rhys and himself; after so long denying himself contact as much as he had Rhys, it put Eskel’s body at ease to have the heavy weight of Rhys spread over him.

Beautiful black hair dangling down to caress Eskel’s bare skin. The lightest of bites and teasing tastes all the way down his chest. And Eskel had no doubt after such an intense night that Rhys was being honest when he said this was something he needed right now. It satisfied that protective need in Eskel to be able to offer it to him, to let Rhys take the time just to touch and be in control again for a bit, find his bearings.

Eskel allowed himself to fall into the distraction of Rhys’ mouth on his body. Smiling back when Rhys looked up at him after kissing his nipple. Watching Rhys’ eyes sparkle with curiosity as he carefully tested a fang out on Eskel’s nipple. A low rumbling moan reverberated through Eskel’s chest at the contact, sharp and firm enough to be felt, but not at all painful.

One of Eskel’s hands came up to pet Rhys’ braid. Running along the crown of his head, threading it through his fingers and letting it run out of them, before doing it all over again. “You said you liked not bein’ able to move without my permission. What if I held you down with Yrden instead of tyin’ you up? For most witchers, castin’ Yrden around someone would slow them quite a bit. Mine is strong enough though, I think it would prevent you from movin’ at all, until I removed it. You’d be able to talk, jus’ not walk.” Eskel smirked at Rhys, the image of him plastered flat and helpless to a bed was pretty arousing. Or maybe it was just Rhys having tugged at his nipple with his fang. Probably both.

“Should I turn over for you. Let you explore my back while you think about it?” Eskel had a feeling he knew what Rhys was up to. Mapping out the entire upper half of his body with his mouth. It didn’t bother Eskel at all, in fact he was quite enjoying the attention.  
  


***

  
  
"Mmmh." Rhys didn't let Eskel move for a moment while biting down very deliberately on his other nipple. Just enough pressure to be felt, not enough to hurt, leaving a little indentation in the skin that would be gone in a minute. He grinned at it and then moved off of Eskel, took his place straddling him again once Eskel had turned over.

"I don't need to think about that, I want to try that. But we should try it outside of playing first - I don't know what it will do to me. The magic here is similar, but not the same." Rhys seated himself on Eskel's ass, hands tracing over the scars on Eskel's back. There were a couple he couldn't believe Eskel had even survived, let alone survived and still been able to finish the fight after.

He leaned forward to place a kiss between Eskel's shoulder blades. "I wonder if I could learn Signs. If you are allowed and willing to teach them to someone who isn't a witcher." Nosing into Eskel's hair, Rhys breathed in the smell of juniper, leather and clean sweat, one hand running down Eskel's side, the other propping him up. Sitting like this, his cock was pressed against Eskel's ass and he shivered. Despite his still aching balls, he found himself getting aroused again.

For now, he opted for further gentle exploration of Eskel's many scars, caressing and kissing them all over Eskel's back. "Would you like to try and learn how to conjure a Watcher spirit? I think you might be able to learn."  
  


***

  
  
Head turned to the side and resting on one folded arm, Eskel’s other arm strayed back along his side. Fingers barely grazing at Rhys’ knee. “Mmmhm. I would, I wonder if I could. An’ like I said we’re a dying breed, any rules there might’ve been about teachin’ outsiders our secrects don’ really apply anymore. I don’ know if you could learn Signs or not but there’s no harm in me showin’ you how.”

Every nip, nibble, and lick, each time Rhys’ nimble fingers traced some long forgotten place where a wyvern’s tail had sliced him open, Eskel made a soft noise, barely audible. Even face down Eskel’s nipples were still sensitive from Rhys’ fangs and his cock was paying far too much attention to the situation of Rhys’ own cock, not exactly soft anymore, pressing against Eskel’s ass.

Caressing Rhys’ knee one last time Eskel raised his hips up and adjusted his cock underneath himself. “You know you’re going to get me all worked up again if you keep that up.” Eskel laughed at himself. “Geralt does not enjoy taking men, it’s really not his thing. Doesn’t mean I don’ want that sometimes though. An’ you’re jus’ back there sittin’ on my ass teasin’ me. ’Cause I really like the way you're touchin’ me right now.”  
  


***

  
  
Having Eskel's ass suddenly squeezing his cock when Eskel moved made Rhys jump and suck in a sharp breath. He shifted, gently and slowly pressing against Eskel. "I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy teasing you like this. But if you'd rather, I don't know, sleep or just talk, you only have to say it. I wouldn't want you to exert yourself unduly."

Giggles stopped Rhys from continuing and he muffled them by nuzzling between Eskel's shoulder blades. He stretched out on top of Eskel, let him feel his weight. Intertwining their fingers, he brought their hands up next to Eskel's head. Rhys didn't lean on them, propped himself up on his elbows on either side of Eskel's shoulders.

His cock was decidedly enthusiastic about the situation and Rhys gave a couple of harder thrusts, moving it between Eskel's cheeks before slowing down again. Another deep breath and he nipped at Eskel's shoulder with his fangs, let him feel the sharp tips. Only for a moment, then he licked over the tiny marks. He did it again a little closer to Eskel's neck and again, in the crook of his neck. Kept still there, Eskel's pulse beating against his fangs and his tongue.  
  


***

  
  
“I think you’ve done more sleepin’ than me. I might be old, but ‘m pretty sure I have more stamina.” Eskel laughed, squeezing his fingers around Rhys’. “‘M definitely not tired.” Turning his head towards Rhys’ face where it was nestled against his neck Eskel groaned happily at the slow slide of Rhys’ cock in the valley of his ass.

“Ya’know I like that you’re not small an’ light. I prefer not to have to worry about breakin’ my partners.” Daring to lift his hips again and roll his ass against Rhys’ cock Eskel paused for a half second to bask in the sensation, something he craved but never got. Biting his lip he let his hips down and rubbed himself against the blanket seeking some relief there. “Fuck, not gonna lie that feels good.”

Eskel let out soft, measured breaths. Tried to focus on the sensation of Rhys’ body laying on top of his, warm and heavy. Comforting, not controlling. The slow glide of Rhys cock kept distracting him though, making arousal spike in his gut. Eskel rolled his hips in the smallest little motions against the blanket, just enough to satisfy the urge from his groin to move, the rest of the work he left to Rhys’ hips. Opening and closing his fingers around Rhys’, Eskel moaned his pleasure softly. “‘S good. I never get this, ever.”  
  


***

  
  
There was a little whine from Eskel when Rhys stopped. It was very quiet, but Rhys caught it and smiled to himself. He leaned over to get the bottle with oil, at least he hoped it was the right one. His attention had been elsewhere when Eskel has used it and there were two. Unstoppering it told him that is was not the pepper oil.

"Do you want to turn back over? You can tell me if I have the right bottle here and I honestly feel more comfortable doing this face to face if it's been a while for you." Rhys grinned and added what he thought was a bribe. "And I get to bite you some more. If you want."

After a moment's hesitation, Eskel turned on his back. He was hard already, pupils blows wide and black, almost eclipsing the golden iris. Rhys couldn't resist running the back of a finger over Eskel's cock, savouring the silky smoothness, stopping just short of the tip. He thumbed over the foreskin, pulling it down a little.

"That's the right bottle. An' yeah, you can bite me. I like that." Eskel breathed deeply, chest rising and falling visibly and Rhys wanted to take him apart, see him lose that composure.

With a hum, Rhys put the bottle down for now. He pressed a knee to Eskel's thigh until Eskel spread his legs and let Rhys sit between them. Moving slowly and deliberately, Rhys let his braid fall on Eskel's thigh, slid it over Eskel's balls and cock. A hitch in Eskel's breath told him to do that again and he wrapped the braid around Eskel's cock once, let it fall away after a gentle tug, curling on Eskel's stomach.

Moving higher, he kissed each scar he encountered until he had reached Eskel's nipples. He nudged them with his tongue and when they were hard, he bit down first on one, then the other. Slowly increasing the pressure, using his tusks, until Eskel moaned. One hand reaching for Eskel's cock, Rhys kept biting him, licking over the marks he left until they were gone. His fingers circled Eskel's shaft, sliding up and down at a languid pace.

Eskel had buried the fingers of one hand in Rhys' hair, the other grabbed the bed sheet. Rhys freed himself, a touch to Eskel's hand was enough to make him let go. With a kiss to Eskel's palm, Rhys moved down again and reached for the oil, dripped some on his fingers. He traced it over Eskel's hole, pressed one finger to it and pushed, watching Eskel for any signs of discomfort. His free hand rested on Eskel's thigh, muscles tensing underneath the palm for a second as his finger dipped into Eskel, then relaxing again.

"Talk to me a little, please? Just so I know it's good for you?" Rhys was pretty sure Eskel was enjoying himself, judging from the way he raised his hips and pushed against Rhys, but he wanted assurance.  
  


***

  
  
Eskel threw one arm over his forehead, barely shadowing his eyes. He could still see Rhys, still make eye contact but somehow he felt a little less on display this way. The hand that had been grabbing the sheets he slowly worked down and laid over Rhys’ hand on his thigh. He always liked to rub his thigh when he touched himself like this anyway so that was even more comforting.

“Feels amazin’” Eskel let out a heavy breath, trying to stay on an even keel. “Want you to move inside me though.”  
  


***

  
  
Rhys took Eskel in, splayed out before him, trying hard to hold on to his composure, and a shiver of excitement ran through him at the sight. He would have liked to touch himself but didn't want to pull his hand away from Eskel's. Instead, he used his thumb to caress the back of Eskel's hand while he started to slowly fuck into him.

He kept his eyes on what he was doing, only casting quick glances up at Eskel to check that he was still fine and enjoying himself. It didn't take long until Rhys added a second finger, moved at a faster rhythm. It would have been possible for him to take Eskel, but he wanted to draw this out a little. Rhys wasn't in a hurry and he brushed a fingertip over Eskel's prostate, touching only for a moment. A few more thrusts and another pause for a light touch to that sweet spot.  
  


***

  
  
When Rhys slid his finger over that spot inside Eskel clenched up, abdomen tightening, white hot need slithering around inside him. He lifted his hips unconsciously and uttered a rough moan. “Fuck. Tha’s good.” It was only a few moments before Rhys did it again and Eskel tried to stay quiet through it as he arched up into the feeling.

Eskel spread his knees wider, hooking his heels behind Rhys to try and pull him closer. The action only drove Rhys’ fingers deeper though and Eskel’s eyes went wide, head tipping back further under his arm as he sucked in a breath. Neck exposed he swallowed roughly, then let out a low deep laugh ending in something between a moan and groan. “Less watchin’, more touchin’.” Eskel looked down at Rhys from under his arm smiling haphazardly and added a belated, “Please.”

“I like it when you touch my chest an’ neck, that kind of thing.” Eskel wasn’t exactly sure how to explain it but being face to face with Rhys knowing he was going to let him fuck him, that he _wanted _Rhys to fuck him desperately, was so much more intense than being face down and offering him his ass. The cheekiness was gone, and he felt massively more vulnerable now. Somehow Eskel felt like if Rhys got closer, he would feel more connected and less compromised by showing his face.  
  


***

  
  
With a grin that was all sharp fangs and pointed tusks, Rhys pulled his fingers out of Eskel and crouched low over him, like a big cat stalking its prey. Dipping his head down, he licked up a few drops of sweat from Eskel's chest, savoring the slight metallic aftertaste.

Seeing the tight hold Eskel had on himself start to slip was thrilling and it left Rhys hungry for more. He nuzzled at the hollow of Eskel's throat and put a tender bite to it before sitting up again. With hands that were almost steady, he opened the oil bottle and slicked up his cock, lined himself up with Eskel.

One hand to Eskel's chest, Rhys pushed forward with a slow roll of his hips. He gave a soft cry when the tip of his cock slid into Eskel, squeezed tight by the muscles contracting around it. After a moment to get his breath back, Rhys fucked himself into Eskel in short thrusts, taking his time. His hand wandered from Eskel's chest to his neck, cupping his jaw.

He watched Eskel, catching and holding his gaze in between kissing and biting at his chest, his nipples. Gradually, Rhys sank down until he was stretched out on top of Eskel. Cock buried inside of him, holding him close with both arms wrapped around his shoulders. The medallion hummed softly between them as Rhys breathed in time with Eskel, face pressed against his neck. Raising his hips, Rhys pulled back and thrust into Eskel, setting a slow, deliberate pace.  
  


***

  
  
It was Eskel’s turn to watch now, as Rhys grinned and licked his way up Eskel’s body. It was gratifying to see that Rhys clearly _enjoyed _indulging in this, even seemed to be delighted at the chance to explore Eskel’s body this way. Eskel pulled both lips between his teeth and managed to hold back the moan that threatened to break free when he looked down and saw Rhys preparing himself.

There was no stopping the shudder that shook through him when Rhys slowly pressed inside though. That first tight stretch and his body trying to clamp down on the head of Rhys’ cock. Breath coming in small aborted huffs, Eskel waited for his body to adjust. He blinked his eyes lazily and reveled in the way Rhys worked his cock inside of him, focused on the soft touches of Rhys’ hand, the warmth of Rhys mouth on his skin with each kiss. It was better with Rhys close like this, close enough he didn’t feel like he was being picked apart.

When Rhys settled on his chest, face buried in his neck and cock buried in his ass, Eskel felt like he was in heaven. Rhys was so close, and Eskel’s ass was throbbing around his cock, deeper than his own fingers could ever reach. His own cock trapped between them, thick and aching for relief, gloried at the press of Rhys’ body against his own.

The arm that Eskel had used to shield his face relaxed, and that hand sought out Rhys’ hair, drawing his braid down over his shoulder. Eskel slid it through his fingers, draped it along the side of his head and held it there. Turning his face into it he pressed the smooth braided strands against his scars, breathing deeply to inhale the exotic scent. Letting himself get a little lost in it, so soft against his face and sweet smelling. His other hand rested on Rhys’ back, holding him close.

The first time Rhys drew his hips back to thrust into Eskel with purpose, it knocked loose a throaty cry. The pace wasn’t fast and Eskel didn’t want it to be. He already felt like he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted. After the first few plunges of Rhys’ cock into him, Eskel’s rumbling moans had softened and he found his voice somewhere. “Oh Gods. You feel great inside me.” Eskel had to swallow to wet his throat, dry from noises he hadn’t intended to make. “Like it when you’re close like this.”

Eskel turned his head back towards Rhys, cradling Rhys’s head against his neck with his free hand, not forceful, only a gently touch. Bringing his feet up on either side of Rhys, Eskel rested his heels lightly on Rhys’ ass, trying to be mindful that he had spanked Rhys hard earlier. Moving like that had opened him up more and let Rhys sink in deeper and Eskel took a moment to process the sensation of Rhys’ cock nudging up against that spot inside that lit his gut on fire.

Using his feet as a guide Eskel urged Rhys into that perfect slow pace, deep long thrusts that never seemed to end. “Yeah,” Eskel was breathing deep and heavy, “jus’ like this. Stay slow for me, an’-” sucking in a quick breath Eskel’s chest rumbled as he exhaled a groan, “-Fuck yeah, tha’s the spot.” Eskel felt like he was unspooling, unwinding, losing sight of his own tattered loose threads. And strangely he wasn’t even sure if he cared that Rhys saw him like this. The sounds coming from Rhys made him think that watching Eskel let go in front of him, was part of what aroused Rhys about this.  
  


***

  
  
Eskel clung to Rhys. Not clutching hard, but holding him and telling him with touches and moans what he wanted. Rhys was only too happy to oblige, as long as he could. Which wouldn't be too long - Eskel shuddering and moaning underneath him was perfect.

Rhys propped himself up on his elbows and buried both hands in Eskel's hair. When Eskel arched his neck, following the soft tug, Rhys held his throat with tusks and fangs, only for a few breaths. Then he let go and kissed Eskel's jaw, the side of his mouth where the scar tore into it and followed the scar upwards with more kisses.

For a moment, he sunk into their auras, listened to the glass harp wail of the scar beneath the low hum of the medallion and Eskel himself. It gave him a sharp cut when he touched it too long and he drew back. He sought comfort in Eskel's warmth, curling up inside the molten gold of him that pulsed and surged in their rhythm, red flowing into it with every thrust. It clung to Rhys' mind as he surfaced again.

The slow pace was starting to leave Rhys desperate for more and he crouched, moving Eskel with a firm grip to his hips into a better position. One where Rhys could thrust into him harder and faster. With a soft growl Rhys sped up, done with waiting. He grabbed one of Eskel's hands, held it next to Eskel's head. With their fingers weaved together, Rhys put his weight on it so he had his other hand free to thumb and gently pinch at Eskel's nipples.

"Touch yourself for me. Please?" The question came as a gasp, urgent and breathless. Rhys held Eskel's gaze, hungry to see him come undone.  
  


***

  
  
The reverence with which Rhys kissed his scars was almost Eskel’s undoing. Breath catching in his throat Eskel allowed himself to feel the tenderness of Rhys’ lips against his marred face, let it flow through him and back out. His breath was coming back, ragged and heavy, when Rhys’ readjusted. Gripping Eskel’s hips, moving them, picking up the pace and rutting into him with more urgency. A series of low staccato moans tumbled out of Eskel’s throat as Rhys teased at his nipple.

Rhys’ eyes were wide, black pools of desire overtaking the brown, and Eskel didn’t dare look away. As much as Eskel felt like he was losing himself, Rhys looked the same, completely gone to lust and maybe something more. The way Rhys sounded—as desperate as Eskel felt—when he asked Eskel to touch himself made Eskel want to fall over the edge into bliss right then and there. Instead he blinked slowly, trying to focus, trying to breathe through his own desire for just a minute more to drag this out.

Very lightly, with the hand not held by Rhys, Eskel let his fingertips trace his own cock from tip to base. Biting his lip he moaned at the intensity of it. His fingers arousing himself only made his ass tighten around Rhys, which served to drive him higher. Barely touching, he played his fingers over the head, getting them slick with his own precum before running them down the underside of his shaft, pressing softly between his balls and dragging them slowly back up.

Eskel’s breath choked in his throat, cock jerking under his own touch. Eyes locked on Rhys, ass clenching rhythmically around his cock, Eskel circled his hand around himself. It only took two strokes softly up his cock before he lost himself completely. Throwing his head back in a silent groan, eyes shut tightly as his body squeezed down on Rhys’ cock and he milked himself through his orgasm. Eskel arched up under Rhys, shaking with the intensity of it, abdomen visibly spasming as the aftershocks of his pleasure rocked his body.

After a few moments the shuddering passed and Eskel pulled his legs further up, settling his feet higher on Rhys’ ass, almost at the bottom of his back. Falling limp underneath Rhys, Eskel used his legs to hold Rhys close, encouraging him to take his own pleasure. Eskel merely laid there blissed out and reveling in the moment, waiting for his mind and body to regain their equilibrium. "Tha's it, find your pleasure in me. Wanna see it. Wanna feel you lose control like this."  
  


***

  
  
Rhys didn't need to be told. He couldn't have drawn this out any longer even if he had wanted. It had been hard enough to hold on while Eskel writhed under him, muscles tightening around Rhys' cock. Only concerned with his own body and not caring about what he revealed in this moment.

Drawn close by Eskel's legs, Rhys let himself fall, fucked hard into Eskel without even trying to hold back. He wrapped his arms around Eskel and held him in place, all his weight on top of him. With his face buried against Eskel's neck, Rhys gasped for air, moans turning into little choked cries.

He only lasted for a couple more thrusts before he spilled himself, collapsed on top of Eskel and didn't move except for gulping down air in heavy breaths. It took a while until he was ready to let go, one limb after the other, muscles still twitching and shuddering. In the end, he slowly pulled out of Eskel and rolled off of him, only to hug him again, one leg thrown over him and a hand splayed on his chest. Rhys nestled into Eskel, trying to find his voice.

"I'm- I need a minute." With the pleasure of his orgasm slowly fading, it dawned on him that this maybe was something they should have waited with until they had talked to Geralt and Duncan. He had taken something Eskel wanted and didn't get from Geralt and given it to him. This could hurt all of them and he should have known better.

Rhys traced his fingers over Eskel's jaw. He didn't want to let his thoughts show right now, he did need a minute to think about it. "I love seeing you like this. All fucked out." That was no lie and Rhys wanted to _keep _seeing this. Eskel was relaxed and soft next to him, face unguarded and it made Rhys' heart ache in the best way.  
  


***

  
  
Mind finally catching up to his body through the haze of pleasure Eskel let his legs fall closed around the one of Rhys’ laying over him, ran one hand along Rhys’ arm to rest on top of his hand there. Eskel didn’t want Rhys to feel abandoned after sharing something so intimate with him.

Regret was already beginning to seep into Eskel’s head about his decision to offer something so rare to Rhys though. Not that he regretted letting Rhys have this part of him or see him like this at all, because he didn’t, but he did sincerely regret the timing. Rhys had said he needed a moment to recover, and Eskel would gladly give him one. He needed a moment himself to privately consider what he’d done. How he might have put his own desires first instead of watching out for Rhys after playing like he should have. That was the last thing Eskel wanted Rhys to see right now.

After a few moments to let Rhys catch his breath Eskel kissed his forehead. “Want me to heat the tub? I think we could both use a bath at this point.” Forcing a smile Eskel rolled himself up to sitting and looked down at Rhys, who nodded quietly back to him. Eskel pulled the discarded blanket back up from the foot of the bed over Rhys’ shoulders. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take long at all to heat the tub. Eskel returned to the bed and flashed Rhys a smile full of confidence he wasn’t exactly feeling no need to let Rhys know that though. Bending down Eskel planted a knee on the bed and scooped Rhys up. There was a small surprised noise, which Rhys quickly cut off, and then Rhys’ arms looped around Eskel’s neck.

The trip to the tub was short and Eskel set Rhys down right outside of it. “Hop in an’ I’ll go find us some food. Dandy always has stuff stocked up here for me, so I won’t be long. Then I’ll join you if you’d like.”

“I would like that.” Rhys sighed contentedly as he stepped into the hot water and sat down. Eyes watching Eskel carefully as he stepped around the wood curtain to search for food.

_Fuck, why did I do that? It was my job to watch him, to keep him warm and cuddled not offered him emotional sex when he hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Duncan yet. Way to be in control Eskel._

Searching the cupboard yielded a bottle full of raspberry juice and a wheel of cheese. In a bowl on top of the sideboard were some of the grapes that Geralt and him had just brought fresh from the vineyard as a gift to the cabaret for letting them stay and play. Eskel made quick work of the cheese with his knife adding it to the bowl. He needed to tell Rhys about his mistake, honestly, it was the only way to keep it from ruining this. He couldn’t do anything else like that until they had each had a chance to talk to their other partners.

Coming around the corner with the grapes and cheese in the bowl, raspberry juice bottle in the other hand, Eskel pulled an intable close, setting them down. Slipping into the hot water next to Rhys and undoing his braid, Eskel put an arm low around Rhys’s waist to pull him close. Chin resting on Rhys’ shoulder Eskel took a breath to steady his mind.

“I need to tell you somethin’ an’ I don’ want you to think it means I wasn’t blown away by what we just did.” Eskel waited half a beat and continued, “because that was honestly really amazin’ an’ I wanna thank you for that. An’ I wanna do it again sometime maybe, if it was as good for you as I think it was, but for right now we can’t. We haven’t talked to the others yet an’ doin’ somethin’ so intimate before we do is jus’ askin’ for trouble. I’ve been on the other side of this, where Geralt came home an’ is all of a sudden very interested in a new person an’ I was blindsided by it. Hadn’t been talked to at all—it ends badly. I don’t want to be that person for you an’ Duncan. It’s not fair to Duncan, to you, or to Geralt.”

There was a small silence for a moment while Eskel let his words sink in. He was pretty sure Rhys would understand this and why. He honestly hoped Rhys understood this didn’t mean he hadn’t immensely enjoyed what they just shared though.

“Also, I feel bad. After we played it was my job to watch you an’ keep you comfortable. Take care of you an’ feed you. Offer you this bath, not offer you something _I wanted._ My inability to control that desire has hurt Geralt an’ I before, an’ it was wrong of me to offer that to you like I did. I should have chosen differently. I could have easily offered you this bath an’ food then instead. I hope you understand what I mean, an’ know that I jus’ want us to talk to them before we do something like that again, not that I don’t want to do it again at all.” Eskel finally looked at Rhys, hope in his eyes.  
  


***

  
  
Shifting around a little more so he could look at Eskel without cricking his neck, Rhys reached up to touch his face. "I don't think we are going to blindside anyone here. Surprise maybe and we will need to talk and see how it goes, but I think our situation is a little different. It's not like you are bringing some stranger along to be part of the relationship suddenly."

"But I agree that we need to talk to them and that for now, a bath, food and some cuddling should be all we do." Rhys laughed quietly, put one hand on Eskel's where it was resting on his hip. "While you were getting the food, I was over here kicking myself for not looking out for you. I know how tempting it is to do _everything_ all at once with a person you just --discovered that kind of connection with. And I know how much that can mess up things if there are other people involved. I should have known better than taking you up on your offer."

He hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. "Especially since it was something you don't normally get. That's not a problem in itself - it's what happens when you're involved with more than one person. But right now, at this point? It borders on manipulation. I didn't intend it that way but I am _very _good at seeing how to get people to do what I want and I usually take care to not abuse that."

Moving slowly so the water didn't splash on the floor, Rhys turned and knelt so he could look at Eskel directly, with a hand cupping his face, stubble and scars under his fingertips. "I want more of you and I really don't want to fuck this up. So let's have some food and a bath and go to sleep after. Hold me while we sleep, please. And in the morning, we'll talk with Geralt and Duncan and see where it goes from there."  
  


***

  
  
Tipping his head into Rhys’ hand Eskel gave a tiny torn up half smile. “‘M glad you want more of me, ‘cause I really do want more of you.” Thinking for a moment on what Rhys had said about how he usually took care not to abuse his innate ability to get people to do what he wanted, and how Rhys wanted more of him, Eskel decided to put those fears at ease a little.

“An’ I don’t jus’ want more of you because of what you gave me jus’ now. I already wanted more of you when you were voiceless an’ melted in my ropes. You let me have _everythin’_, an’ I didn’t want that to be the end.” Eskel reached up to spread Rhys’ hair out around his shoulders, watching it float in the water. “I think you’re right, you could exploit some of the things you see in me. But I made this choice as much as you this time.” Grabbing the soap and a cloth Eskel felt like he was out of words.

Eskel enjoyed talking to Rhys, about magic, about sex, but this was a mentally difficult conversation to navigate. Geralt didn’t talk to Eskel openly about concerns like this, and while Eskel found he _liked _this straightforwardness from Rhys a lot, it was also a lot more taxing than what he was used to.

Putting his intention instead into caring for Rhys was easy, a role he felt as comfortable in as in his armor. Eskel soaped up the cloth and ran it over Rhys’ arms and shoulders, tenderly cleaning the bruised marks on his neck. Rhys smiled contentedly and turned his head to allow it. “I think a bath, some food, an’ the chance to keep a’hold of you until mornin’ sounds perfect.”


	7. After Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“If it’s alright for me to like them both so much, why are you worried about liking Rhys? It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to allow me that and not be willing to let you have it too.” Geralt let Eskel lay his head on his shoulder._  
poly negotiations all around

It took Duncan a moment to realize where he was - there was no muted roar from the city and what noise there was was _wrong_. But before he could panic, Geralt rolled over in his arms and all the memories fell into place.

They had slept through most of the night, with the first light of dawn setting fire to the sky and giving shape to the room. It was more than enough light for Duncan to see by and he lazily propped himself up to look at Geralt, one hand caressing his chest. He thought it was probably rare to see a sleepy, blinking witcher and he enjoyed the privilege.

Geralt was all soft in his arms and Duncan enjoyed that, too. As much as he liked seeing Geralt drifting and fucked out of his mind, this was at least as good. A softness brought by trust and probably the desire to stay hidden from the world a little longer. Duncan knew _he_ felt this way. They had the room until morning and there was no need to hurry.

"Hey. Sleep well?" Duncan flashed a grin at Geralt who was slowly blinking himself awake.

***

“Mmhm.” Geralt stared at Duncan’s dazzling smile for a moment, perfect teeth and strong jaw, before blinking back the light trying to break into his warm comfortable world. He wanted to crawl right into Duncan’s chest and stay there for a while longer. Feel those thick arms around him, holding him tight and safe.

In a bid to get that Geralt shuffled further into Duncan. A tiny groan falling from his mouth as each move brought to life a new ache, an already fading reminder of an amazing night.

“How about you? The regulars and patrons didn’t keep you awake I hope? They’re good people here at the Passiflora.” Geralt ran his fingers over Duncan’s chest, marveling at the bulges and swells of the muscles there. So different from his own lean and hard form.

***

"I don't think anything could have kept me awake after we were done." Duncan leaned into Geralt's touch with a contended hum. "You hungry? We've got some food here, you just need to let go of me for a moment." His own stomach growled at the thought.

When Geralt only tried to crawl closer into him, Duncan sighed. "Alright. Hold on to me." He got on one knee, picked Geralt up and wrapped the blanket around them before ambling the few steps to the sideboard. Piling a plate high with some roast chicken, a couple of apples and bread, and wedging a bottle of wine between Geralt and himself, Duncan balanced everything back to the bed.

Some juggling and rearranging later, he was leaned against the headboard, plate next to himself and Geralt nestling sideways against his chest. All the blankets on the bed lay piled around them in an effort to keep the world at bay some more.

Duncan offered some of the chicken to Geralt. "I enjoyed this a lot." He bought himself time by tearing a piece of a chicken leg and chewing. "You want to do it again sometime and I don't mean in three years?"

***

“I’ll always want to do this with you.” Reaching out from between them to sneak an apple Geralt bit into it. Chewed and swallowed while he thought of how to explain this to Duncan without it sounding too odd. “I mean, I know that we played around with the intent of giving Eskel something to be jealous over. And don’t get me wrong, he has a possessive and jealous side a league wide.” Just the thought of that made Geralt smile.

“But Eskel knows me so well, has for decades, and he would never try to tie me down. I can be interested in other men and women, spend time with them, care about them, fuck them. Eskel would never truly hold that against me as long as I am honest with him about it. It’s always been that way.” Taking another bite of apple, Geralt cast a glance up at Duncan before laying his head back against Duncan’s chest. “So I’d be happy if you didn’t wait three years to visit next time.” Realizing exactly what an appetite he’d worked up Geralt started to make quick work of the rest of his apple.

Gently he kicked his leg into Duncan’s to drive home his point though. He _did_ love seeing Duncan like this, and letting Duncan have him, throw him around, manhandling him and own him. Hopefully Duncan didn’t think he was too strange for wanting to keep that. Geralt had his suspicions that Duncan wouldn’t though. A person didn't pair up with someone like Rhys without at least a partially open mind. It was definitely something he wanted to do again and he planned to say something to Eskel about it later.

“And thank you. For really giving me what I wanted.” Geralt pressed his hand against the bite on his shoulder, well scabbed over but very much still there. There was no way he was drinking a Swallow anytime soon for that, he loved the way it felt when he moved.

***

"Mmhm" Duncan nosed into Geralt's hair, breathed in the scent, a little bitterness hidden under it. Rhys probably could have told him what kind of plant that was. "I'm glad you had fun. And I'm glad you want to do this again because I definitely want that. I need to talk to Rhys, but I doubt he'll even be surprised at this."

He dropped the chicken bone to the side of the plate and wiped his fingers on a piece of bread, devouring it after. "We did try to find you earlier. Hearing what happened in those three years, I'm not surprised we couldn't. But yeah, you've been on our minds."

Wrapping his arms around Geralt, he gave a gentle squeeze. "Can I ask you something?" When Geralt hummed in agreement, Duncan took a deep breath and plunged forward with his question. "You said that you let only Eskel and myself take your ass. Were you serious about that?"

***

“Um, very much.” Geralt craned his head up to look at Duncan. There was a confused look unfolding behind his eyes, shadowing the smooth handsomeness of his features. “I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it.”

Duncan stared hard at him for a minute, slowly chewing on that information as he had the chicken. “Why?” Letting out his breath gradually and very controlled, Duncan sought an answer. “I know why you let Eskel, but why would you let me? You can get off on my strength and speed without having to give me that too.”

Studying Duncan Geralt reached an arm up in between them again, brushing his hand over Duncan’s cheek, up to his ear. Tracing the shell and bending the tip slightly with a finger. How to explain this without frightening Duncan off. “Getting to fuck me isn’t about those things. I love those things about you too. I really do. But letting you have my ass is about trusting you. It feels good, and brings out this very defenseless side of me. That is something only Eskel and you deserve to get.”

Seeing the look of confusion hadn’t really faded Geralt thought back to _why_ he trusted Duncan so much. “You saw me at a really horrible time before, when Eskel wasn’t around for me. You saw me so lost in my head that I didn’t even know I was, and instead of taking advantage of that—without really even knowing me—you chose to hold me and comfort me. To tell me I wasn’t what I thought I was. To explain to me what I wanted was alright, and even shared with me that you enjoyed similar things.”

Geralt rose up on his knees, hugging Duncan. “That’s why you’re special like Eskel. Because you helped me, took care of me, when you didn’t _need_ to. I like that you are protective like that.” Sitting back down Geralt felt satisfied with his explanation, if Duncan didn’t understand now why Geralt held him up with Eskel, then he would figure it out in time.

***

For a moment, Duncan was speechless. He wasn't sure why, what with Geralt being the one doing the confession, but he felt vulnerable. Fragile.

This was unexpected and it unbalanced him. He had been meaning to keep this casual ever since he had heard about Eskel but it had been with a little regret. Meeting Geralt again had made him realize just how much he had missed him. He knew that Rhys felt the same, so even though he really needed to talk to him, it wasn't like Rhys would be hurt by this. It was just --confusing, to find out Geralt felt like this. But Duncan could relate extremely well to his explanation.

"I can understand that. When I met Rhys, I was --not in a good place. I can't remember the night we met, I was so drunk. Rhys took me home with him, let me sleep in his bed while he camped out on the couch, made breakfast and was just there. He didn't want anything in return except get to know me." Duncan smiled at the memory.

"I didn't feel like worth getting to know, let me tell you. But Rhys had my back from day one and never judged me for fucking up my life so hard. He just took me as I was and helped me crawl out of that hole. So yeah, I get what you're saying." With a quiet sigh, he leaned back into the cushions piled behind him and pulled Geralt close.

"I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to get between you and Eskel and I still don't want that, but this is more than just fucking around for me, too. The thought of seeing you and getting to have this again - I like that. A lot." Duncan was sure he had blushed at least a little, his ear tips were burning, but he didn't care.

***

Geralt tore off a piece of chicken, squished it into a hunk of bread and mopped the plate with it before stuffing it in his mouth, humming happily as he ate it. “You won’t get between me and Eskel. What I get from you is completely different. And you’re protective, Eskel will like that. The things you do for me are things Eskel doesn’t _want_ to do, things that are past his limits. I’ll talk to him and it will be alright.”

Separating another chunk of breast from the chicken Geralt carefully formed another sandwich and ran it around the plate gathering the cold juices. Tucking himself back into Duncan’s side Geralt sat satisfied while eating it. His body ached in all the right places and all the right ways, Duncan’s arm was curled around him protectively. He had been able to explain himself reasonably well, and he had food. This was a damn good morning. Geralt sighed relaxing further into Duncan as he watched the morning light flood further into the room, getting brighter as the minutes ticked on. The red slowly fading out in favor of yellow and white rays.

***

Duncan nibbled some chicken and took a swig of wine right from the bottle. Outside, the city returned to its noisy daily life. It was strangely comforting to hear, still much more quiet than home.

He barked a short laugh. 'You think Eskel and Rhys are going to come looking for us soon? Although, maybe they're still busy.' He cast a sidelong glance at Geralt. 'Tell me about Eskel. I get the feeling he's good for you.'

***

A tiny smile formed on Geralt’s face at the thought of Eskel still being busy. Even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t come knocking down their door; but Geralt was hoping that Eskel’s nerves at trying something new, _being_ with someone new, had worn off and he had been able to get into his head and enjoy himself with Rhys.

“Eskel is… Extremely patient. Calm, doesn’t jump to conclusions. We have known each other since we were kids. Grew up together, took our Trials together, trained together. We fight together, relax together, play together… he won’t quite retire with me yet though. Still goes out on the Path in the summer for a bit at a time.” Geralt scratched at his stubble. Eskel would want him to shave, or to shave him. Maybe before Eskel played with him again, taking him back.

“When you and Rhys met me last time was not at a good time for Eskel and me. There was no Eskel and me for about a decade and a half there. A lot of that was my fault, I made some incredibly bad choices that forced us apart. They weren’t fair choices to anyone involved. It took me a long fucking time to realize that. But when I did, Eskel was still there, and we worked it out.” Geralt tried to think of how Eskel made him feel. Duncan made him feel a lot of the same ways.

“You say you get the impression he’s good for me— He is. He’s great for me. Eskel is my rock. He’s honest, reliable, and an elegant fucker in a fight. He is possessive and jealous, but he holds it down, and lets me be me. Doesn’t tolerate anyone treating me poorly though. Not even myself.” Geralt laughed at the last bit, it was all too true. “We should probably go check on them though, he’s never done anything like this before. I don’t want him to feel like I fed him to the bear.”

***

"Yeah, we probably should. Don't want them to get worried either. And I want a bath, later." Duncan started to dig them out from under the blankets, placing the plate on the night stand. He pushed Geralt over on his back and held him down for a second to place a kiss on the bite he left on Geralt's shoulder.

"You want to keep the clamps? I got the impression they work for you." Duncan grinned and took them from the bowl, dangling them over Geralt.

A smile spread on Geralt face as he caught them in his hand. "Thank you. They-- they do work for me." He reached up to pull Duncan's hand down as well, placed a kiss on the palm.

"Come on, let's get dressed." Grasping Geralt's arm, Duncan stood up, pulled Geralt to his feet and send him on his way with a slap to the ass.

***

Rhys sank into the huge tub up to his chin. It was his second bath of the day but when Duncan had suggested a trip to the bathhouse, he hadn't seen any reason to say no. Duncan took a moment longer, having watched Rhys undress, and made the tub overflow when he got in and settled next to Rhys. It wasn't made to hold all the water and two orks.

"Where did those bruises come from, they look spectacular?" Duncan ran a thumb over Rhys' nipples, moving down to the other bruises and ending up with his hand on Rhys' thigh.

"Fire cupping." Rhys flinched a little, making another wave splash over the rim of the tub, when Duncan pressed down on the bruise. He flinched again when Duncan cupped his balls, still sore and aching. "You're enjoying this."

"What, loaning you out and getting you back all bruised and fucked out? Yeah. I like that." Duncan reached for his glass of wine without bothering to take his other hand off Rhys' balls. "Did _you_ enjoy yourself?"

"Mmhhm." Mouth full of cheese, Rhys had to chew hastily and swallow before giving an articulate answer. "I did. Very much so, in fact." He toyed with a slice of pear, unsure how to put what he wanted to say.

Putting his wine down, Duncan leaned into Rhys and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. "What is it? You've got something on your mind." He moved his hand, holding Rhys close with an arm around his waist.

"What would you say if I wanted to make this into a regular thing? Eskel and I, we get along really well and I honestly would be sad if this was the only time we played." Rhys turned sideways in Duncan's embrace to look at him. "You can say no. You're my husband, we agree on this or we don't do it."

Duncan took a moment to kiss Rhys. "Funnily enough, I was going to ask you the same thing. I can't tell where this is going, but I like them both. Haven't seen too much of Eskel of course but I'll trust my gut there. I'm pretty sure we'll get along well enough. And I like playing with Geralt."

With a laugh deep in his chest, Duncan pulled Rhys close again. "Did you talk to Eskel about that? Because Geralt and I talked about it. They're probably having the same conversation right now."

Leaning into Duncan. Rhys took a deep breath and relaxed again in the warmth of the water and Duncan's body. "Yes, we agreed that we'd speak to you two. I guess we'll hear about their part of this when we get back."

"Let's give them some time. Come here." Duncan moved Rhys onto his lap, letting him recline against his chest. Holding Rhys with one arm, gently petting his stomach, he started feeding him cheese and fruit pieces with his free hand.

***

“I think they’ve got the right idea. I’m going to soak in the tub here. You wanna join me?” Peering around the wooden screen separating the room at the Rosemary & Thyme Geralt hung his sword belt over the corner of it.

“Um,” Eskel hesitated, thinking of all the things he and Rhys had washed off in the tub. “We should get Dandy to have the water changed out first.”

“Oh?” Geralt peeked at the water. “Looks pretty decent to me. Come on, you can wash my hair.” Continuing to strip out of his clothes Geralt tried to ignore the distinct note of discomfort in Eskel’s voice. He’d wanted Eskel to enjoy this time with the orks too, and he hoped Eskel hadn’t had a bad experience.

“Uh, I-” Eskel padded up behind him, wrapped his arms around Geralt’s midsection halting his undressing, and pressed his mouth to Geralt’s shoulder muffling his words as he continued, “-I think I have a problem. I had fun, which is great, but I really like Rhys, a lot an’ I don’t know what to do about that. ‘M not like you. Or I didn’t think I was. But I want to keep seein’ him. I don’t want to stop bein’ with you though, ever. I don’t want us to be any less than what we’ve always been.”

Eskel’s arms were tightening incrementally around him, and Geralt paused his breathing for a second. Gods Eskel might squeeze him to death if he didn’t say something soon, but he was too busy trying not to smile or laugh at Eskel’s revelation. It would do no good to piss Eskel off by making him feel like Geralt didn’t take his concerns seriously. He was obviously anxious about it and anxiety of any kind was a rare thing for Eskel to experience at this point in life.

“Loosen up.” Geralt took a deep breath and wiggled in Eskel’s hold. When Eskel relaxed his iron grip slightly Geralt turned in his arms. “The bath can wait.” Geralt sunk both hands into Eskel's hair, tipping his head back to stare into his eyes. Eskel looked up, eyes wide, and indecision written all over his face.

"I'm happy you like Rhys so much, and that the two of you had fun." Geralt finally let a hint of smile sneak through at the idea of that. "Because I really like both Rhys and Duncan, but you already knew that didn't you?" Slowly, like he was stalking a deer unaware in the woods, Geralt lowered his head, taking the scarred corner of Eskel’s lip in between his own. Licking at the silky notch there before tilting Eskel’s head to give him a deep kiss.

“If it’s alright for me to like them both so much, why are you worried about liking Rhys? It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to allow me that and not be willing to let you have it too.” Geralt let Eskel lay his head on his shoulder.

“I don’ know. ‘Cause ‘m not like you?” Eskel mumbled, some of the stress had left his voice though.

“Come on, let’s lay down and talk about this.” Breaking free of Eskel’s hold Geralt took his hand, squeezing it, and led Eskel to the bed. The rumpled sheets spoke of a good night, smelling of Eskel, that foreign spice he associated with Rhys, and sex. Overlaying it all was the smell of soap and Geralt thought he might understand why the tub had bothered Eskel all of a sudden. Again he suppressed the urge to laugh. They _had_ definitely had a good time.

Arranging himself on the bed Geralt patted it and waited for Eskel to join him. Once he did Geralt draped himself over Eskel and sunk a hand in his hair again, face pressed up against Eskel’s ear, talking so quiet only Eskel would hear him. “Who says you’re not like me? You can be if you want. I won’t stop you.”

Geralt decided to share his own insights into all of them, maybe that would help Eskel feel better if he realized they would all really be in this together. “Of all the people you’ve met in the last century, I don’t think you could meet a better person to at least test this out with than Rhys. And I know you’ve barely met Duncan but I would be very interested in seeing him on a more frequent basis than every few years.” Geralt massaged the tension out of Eskel’s scalp. “The idea of this isn’t new to them. And it’s sort of old hat to me, and even you. You’re just scared seeing it from the other side. But you _can_ do it. I’d like to see all of us together, happy, able to have fun with each other when we wanted.”

Eskel let out a long held breath. “Rhys said he’d talked to Duncan about the idea before. But that it had never come up in reality. So we did talk about it. Even agreed to talk to the two of you about it. Then we screwed up. I screwed up and let him fuck me without talking to you yet, after we were done playing. ‘M sorry.” The sorrow in Eskel’s last words was palpable, and Geralt rose up on an elbow to look at him. He knew how much Eskel wanted that and how much he couldn’t give it. Fuck, him and Duncan had just agreed to use it to terrify him. Very effectively.

“Hey. It’s alright. You’ve never done this before.” Thinking back to the number of times he’d been tempted to, or followed through with, something similarly rash when he found a new partner, Geralt traced a finger over Eskel’s cheekbone. In towards his nose, down to the tip and over his lips, holding it there to keep Eskel silent while he spoke. “When you find someone new, and everything about them just seems to line up, it can be very tempting to do things like that. To be rash, and give everything. I ought to know. It’s nothing for me to be upset about.”

Laying still and silent, Eskel closed his eyes. “So you and Duncan. Me and Rhys. Us.”

“Me and everyone. You and Rhys. There will always be us.” Geralt kissed Eskel again. “Now can we take a bath? I am a fucking mess and I _really_ want you to wash my hair. I’ll even let you shave me.” That got a laugh out of Eskel and his eyes slid open.

“Alright. Heat the tub.” Eskel let out a sigh of relief, rolling off the bed and standing up. “I think we agreed to meet ‘em at Hattori’s at lunchtime anyway. Rhys has a thing for dumplings. Something about ‘street food’ where they come from? Maybe we can walk ‘em around Novigrad, show ‘em the bookstore.”


	8. In the Company of Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eskel was trying but failing to teach Rhys how to cast Igni, and Rhys had managed to coax Eskel into conjuring up an itty bitty wolf. Geralt wasn’t really sure what the point of that was. Duncan had called it a Watcher. All that really mattered to Geralt though, was that everyone seemed content to be where they were, and happy with how things were going._  
The four decide to travel together, heading to Corvo Bianco, to spend some time with each other.

A week and a half on the road with Duncan and Rhys was more than Geralt had hoped for when he had asked Eskel to travel north to Novigrad to meet the orks. It reminded him of the time after he first met them when they had asked to travel with him for a bit on the Path. For several weeks they had rode along with him. Talking, and keeping him company, if he told the truth making him feel welcome, even though they were the strangers in this world. He’d shown then the dangers of The Continent and how best to avoid them. At night Geralt had curled up with one or both and just allowed himself to be held.

This time, was even better. Geralt was headed home to his vineyard with Eskel, and he had Duncan and Rhys along for the ride too. After some chatting, they’d revealed that time did not exactly pass in their world when they were on The Continent. Leaving them free to spend time with Geralt and Eskel if they chose. One look and a squeezed hand later Geralt found himself mentioning that Corvo Bianco had a spare room upstairs and the Festival of the Vat was coming up soon. 

It still amazed Geralt how much Eskel had taken to Rhys, and how happy they looked as they chatted together about magic around the fire at night. Eskel was trying but failing to teach Rhys how to cast Igni, and Rhys had managed to coax Eskel into conjuring up an itty bitty wolf. Geralt wasn’t really sure what the point of that was. Duncan had called it a Watcher. All that really mattered to Geralt though, was that everyone seemed content to be where they were, and happy with how things were going.

Once they hit the edge of Groundcherry Forest Eskel suggested they make camp for the evening. "We’re near water an’ grazin’ for the horses, and far enough away from anyone who might take too much notice of us. ‘S a good place to rest, an’ relax where we can be ourselves without havin’ to worry too much about the locals.”

***

Duncan spent a little time petting and brushing his horse, running his hand through its short black mane. Both orks had chosen draft horses as their steeds - broad-chested, sturdy, powerful and just the right size to carry an ork. Rhys watched him while he unsaddled his own horse and smiled. They had talked about pets and Duncan had said that Rhys' plants were more than enough, but when the time came to sell the horses the last time they were here, he had flat out refused. So they had taken them home. And Duncan would probably murder anyone who so much as looked wrong at his Jasper. 

The bay gelding had taken to Duncan just as much in turn and was nuzzling gently at Duncan's arm. And smile as he might, Rhys was in love with his own horse, a chestnut mare he had named Rowan. He fixed one of the braids in her blond mane and gave her an apple before letting her join the witchers' horses to graze. 

Stretching after the long ride, he took a look around and saw at least five plants he had never seen before. Curiosity shouldered his tiredness aside and made him get a knife and his botanical box he'd had made in Novigrad before they set out. He wouldn't risk bringing any live plants back home, but he was intent on making a herbarium.

"I'm going to look around a bit for interesting plants. Want to join me? Maybe see if we can rustle up a hare or something for dinner?" Rhys looked at Geralt and it wasn't without a hidden agenda. Duncan and Eskel got along well enough but they hadn't had been on their own and Rhys wanted to see what happened.

***

There was a particular glint in Rhys’ eyes and a certain tone to his voice, that piqued Geralt’ interest right away. Normally he would suggest Eskel for plants and pieces—the things that went into alchemy—they were his specialty, but Geralt guessed there was a clandestine motive here.

“Sure, I’d be glad to have something other than fish or beef tack in my dinner.” Geralt meandered over to Eskel, dodging the beginnings of their makeshift camp along the way. “Hey you. I’m going to take Rhys on a nature walk. Show him the plants, see if I can’t put a bolt in a hare or something for dinner.” With a swift peck of his lips to Eskel’s cheek Geralt headed back to Rhys. “Alright, you have what you need?” Geralt was eyeing Rhys’ plant box.

Rhys nodded and they headed off into the woods, stopping along the way to gather a few of the specimens he’d already spotted. Once they were further in Geralt turned to Rhys abruptly. “Alright so what are we _really_ doing out here?”

Shrugging, Rhys grinned flashing his fangs. “Gathering plants and dinner?”

“Hellebore.” Geralt pointed behind and to the left of Rhys. “And that’s not all we are doing. I’ve seen that fangy smile before, something is up.”

“I want to see what happens when we leave the two of them alone.” Rhys was busy cutting a perfect four petaled flower and stem from the plant.

***

Once Eskel finished setting up camp—building a fire with a quick spit over it, laying out his and Geralt’s bedrolls together, and unpacking some dry goods to go with whatever Geralt brought back for dinner—he walked off a way twenty steps or so from it and drew his sword. Working through his stances and moves always helped relax him, settling his mind. And though he wouldn’t have minded talking to Duncan, he didn’t really know how to start a conversation and Duncan wasn’t exactly a chatterbox like Geralt or Rhys could be.

This, however, was easy. It always would be. Gliding fluidly from one movement to the next. One foot forward, the other turned slightly out to brace himself from the invisible onslaught and to the back. Eskel’s sword gleamed silver in the late afternoon sun. The tip barely wavered, held solid in front of him at eye level while he stared down it.

Dodging an unseen assault Eskel dropped and rolled to the right, popping back up sword still in hand. Sheathing it, Eskel promptly fell into a fighting stance and threw two punches in quick succession at the nonexistent entity in front of him. Dusting himself off Eskel turned back to camp to get a drink, to discover that Duncan was sitting on a downed log, chewing on an apple, watching him thoughtfully.

***

"Don't stop on my account." Duncan gave him a smile. "Unless you'd rather not have me watch." He bit down on the last of his apple, spat the stem into his palm. "Think you could teach me a little? I learned some sword fighting, but very different from what you do. And I'm very out of practice."

He had neglected even his tai chi while they had been traveling and watching Eskel go through his forms had reminded him. It made him itch for some movement that was not on the back of a horse.

***

“‘S prolly best to really know you’re way around a sword if the two of you are goin’ to spend much time here. Lotsa strange monsters, an’ stranger humans around this world." Eskel allowed the good side of his face to pull up at that, it was pathetically true.

Walking right past Duncan he dug around in his gear until he found his waterskin. Dropping down next to Duncan on the log Eskel took a long drink. “Alright, show me how you normally stand an’ hold a sword.” Eskel drew his steel sword from its place on his back and placed it carefully across Duncan’s knees, gulping down more water.

Duncan was a brute of a man, yet he could be quite gentle with Geralt and Eskel was admittedly curious to see how he handled a blade. With Duncan’s reach even Eskel’s swords, which were twohanders for most other men, would be less than a foot longer than his arm.

***

Picking up the sword with reverence, Duncan stood up and hefted it. It was heavier than he was used to and shaped differently, but perfectly balanced. He ran through the stances in his mind as he walked a couple of paces away, then took the basic stance, poised for either attack or defense. 

It was good to hold a sword again even though he didn't kid himself into thinking that he would be much use with it. To start with, he had never used an actual metal sword and never in a real fight. But still, he could do something with this.

Allowing muscle memory to take over, he went through the stances. He _was_ rusty, he had neglected what swordsmanship he had for much too long. Doing this brought back a lot of memories that he'd rather not dwell on right now. So he concentrated on getting it right, letting the movements fill his mind. 

After a couple of tries, there was some kind of flow and much less hesitation as his body started to remember. Duncan ended with the blade raised before his body, aimed at his invisible opponent's throat, body balanced between both feet.

***

“”S not too bad, at least you didn’t drop it on your foot.” Eskel smiled, even letting some of the scars on his face pull. “I mean it. You know how to hold it an’ that’s half the battle. A sword’s no good to you if it gets knocked outta your hands.”

Standing up and walking up behind Duncan, Eskel put a hand on each hip and gave a sharp shove causing Duncan to wobble forward and take a shuffling set of steps to regain his balance. “This style have a name?”

“It’s a martial art called Kendo, it uses a bamboo sword, and its practiced mostly indoors.” Duncan lowered the sword and tried to hand it back to Eskel.

“Nah, do your stance again.” Eskel stood to the side while Duncan assumed his former position, weight balanced between his feet, sword pointed out in front of him. This time Eskel put both hands on the side of one of Duncan’s hips and pushed, but it didn’t move Duncan, he barely swayed on his feet at all. “See, like this you are strong one way, but weaker the other.”

“In Kendo you fight face to face, one on one. It’s practiced as a sport, even though it has its roots in a way for warriors to practice their skill. We don’t run usually around with swords in London.” Duncan laughed and it was pleasant, warm, welcoming. “I do know martial arts that I did use outside of training and competitions. Kendo was,” there was a drawn-out pause, “more about my father wanting me to learn discipline for my mind.”

“Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to use a sword in a real fight, an’ maybe you can show me what a ‘martial art’ is.” Stepping in front of Duncan Eskel drew his silver sword and positioned himself at the ready. Feet slightly wider than his hips apart, one in front and one braced behind him and turned at a ninety degree angle to the front. Arms up he held his sword pointed at Duncan. “Alright see my feet? ‘M balanced in both directions. ‘S harder for someone to knock me over this way. If they charge me I can slide to absorb it.” Duncan was studying Eskel’s position intently, as if calculating what was true about his explanation. “An’ ‘m ready to push off for an attack. Try it.” Dropping his stance Eskel sheathed his sword while Duncan assumed his new pose.

Circling around Duncan Eskel grinned and knocked into him hard with his shoulder, trying to topple him. The tip of the sword wavered in the air as Duncan rocked slightly but his body held and Eskel laughed continuing to circle. Every once in a while Eskel would give Duncan a rough shove to the hips, shoulder, or slam into him bodily with his own shoulder again, but Duncan remained anchored on his feet like a giant oak with deep roots. “”S good. Now take a few swings, jus’ like you did before, but try an’ keep that back foot planted at an angle to your body like that while you do it. See if you can end in this position.”

***

It was hard at first but the position was familiar to Duncan and he quickly found a way to incorporate it into his flow. The unfamiliar weight and shape of the sword helped because it required his attention as well. It wasn't the most elegant he had ever been, far from it, but he didn't mind that.

They kept working at it. Trying different stances, comparing the way Duncan did things with how Eskel fought. Merging them into something that worked for Duncan. He enjoyed the workout and having Eskel teach him. There was a calm patience to Eskel that Duncan appreciated very much in a teacher. He still quickly bristled at being told what to do even in these situations but Eskel never triggered that reaction.

After a time, Duncan could move at some speed through the stances. Eskel let him run through them and Duncan fell into the long-practiced habit of ending each strike with a shout. It made Eskel blink in surprise and he asked after it when they took a short break and a drink of water.

"It's a way to control breathing, and a way to intimidate your opponent." Duncan accepted the waterskin from Eskel and handed back the sword so Eskel could sheath it for now. "It's also a good way to build confidence. It's called kiai - ki means energy and it's a very important concept in a lot of cultures and a lot of martial arts."

***

“Hmm. Might attract alotta attention from someone else, but comin’ from someone your size it’s more likely to scare the shit outta anyone stupid enough to attack you. Could save you havin’ to waste your time on half of ‘em. I like it.” Smirking at the thought of bandits running in fear from Duncan’s shout Eskel let out a short burst of laughter. “An’ anythin’ that reminds you not to hold your breath in a fight is helpful.”

Drawing his blades again and laying them across his knees, Eskel got a small cloth and vial of plain oil from one of the pouches on his alchemy belt. First he wiped them clean and then he smoothed the oil onto each blade with the cloth. “The strikes from your Kendo will suit you jus’ as well with a real sword. You should keep practicing, you’re welcome to join me in the evenings when ‘m goin’ through my own stances.” Sliding his swords back home on his back Eskel looked sideways at Duncan to see him thinking it over.

“I’d like that. Practicing like this feels good. Reminds my body of the right way to move.” Duncan set down the waterskin. “If I’m going to practice I should look into getting a basic sword. Maybe in the next town we pass through.”

Eskel had to laugh at that, thinking of the absolute horde of things Geralt had brought from Kaer Morhen to Corvo Bianco then left to gather dust in an unused room off of the main wine cellar below the house. “Don’t bother. You can use mine until we get home. Then ‘m sure Geralt has several you can choose from that are far better’n basic.” 

The expression on Duncan’s face was unreadable at first, and then almost shy? Or maybe happy if Eskel had to take a guess. The casual offer of a sword to use and the promise a gift from Geralt seemed to almost take him aback for a moment before he looked extremely pleased about it.

“C’mon. You think you can throw me around a bit? An’ I don’t mean like you throw Geralt around.” Jumping to his feet, Eskel stepped back away from the log and dropped into a fighting stance again, beckoning at Duncan. “I wanna see what you got.”

Duncan busted out laughing, then stood up taking Eskel’s measure. Watching him carefully Eskel saw him plan his approach. He let Duncan get close before rolling to the side. The wide reach of Duncan’s arm almost caught him anyway and Eskel rolled again, backwards and out of the way, popping up loosely with his hands at his sides.

Slower in his approach this time Duncan came at him again, more of an angle, waiting for the rolling dodge and ready to change directions quickly. Eskel held his ground, taking a breath stealing hit as Duncan rammed into him, when Duncan was busy getting his hands around to grab at him, Eskel’s weaseled out of the hold. This happened again and again until finally Duncan got a hold on him tightly. Fingers flickering at the ground in the shape of Aard Eskel took advantage of his abilities to create an escape. A blast of air swept out all around him in a circle, knocking Duncan back and landing him on his ass hard.

Bent over and holding his shoulder where he’d taken the hit Eskel chuckled softly. “You’re all muscle and no magic. It almost makes this fight even.”

***

Duncan got to his feet again and waited until Eskel signaled he was ready to go again. This time, he let Eskel to come at him, sidestepped him at the last moment and sent him flying. Eskel landed on his back with a grunt, his arm locked in Duncan's hold. When he struggled, he quickly found that the hold made moving painful.

Letting go, Duncan offered him hand to pull Eskel to his feet. They circled, both studying the other's movements and eyes. Duncan charged, grabbed and threw Eskel again, sweeping him off his feet. After some grappling, Duncan ended up wrapped around Eskel. He grinned at Eskel's squirming and tightened the hold when Eskel tried to form a gesture. "Don't even think about it."

He untangled and stepped back. "Again?"

When Eskel tried Aard the next time, it ended up throwing them _both_ and Duncan's weight knocked the breath out of Eskel when they landed. Duncan rolled off of him and took a moment to get his own breath back.

"Think I can learn to do that?" Eskel seemed in no hurry to attack again, standing up and gulping down air.

Duncan didn't let his guard down, wary for a sudden attack in the middle of conversation. It was a trick he himself had used too often not to expect it. But Eskel seemed to have enough for the moment.

"Sure. No reason why you shouldn't. Want to give it a try?" Duncan cast a quick look at the sun - Geralt and Rhys had been gone for a while but not worryingly long. And he was still up for some sparring.

So was Eskel and they spend some time going through the basics, slow and movement by movement. Duncan enjoyed teaching and Eskel was a quick learner. In the end, he did manage to throw Duncan, had him land on his back.

Out of breath, Duncan stayed there. "Let's take a break."

The sun sent its last rays over the horizon, bathing everything in a warm golden light, flooding through the trees. Long shadows fell over the clearing and there was nothing to be heard except the quietly flowing river, a couple of birds and the contented chewing of the horses.

***

Flopping down on his back next to Duncan on the hard ground Eskel wove his fingers together behind his head. “‘M actually kinda tired. We should definitely keep doin’ this, it was a lotta fun and you’ll be pretty handy with a sword in no time.” Now feeling remarkably at ease, Eskel watched the shadows grow and the conversation came naturally to him. “Almost everyone on The Continent an’ The Isles carries a sword, or travels with someone who does, ‘cause of all the monsters that inhabit our world since the Conjunction of Spheres.”

It was quiet for a moment before Duncan spoke up. “You mean this place didn’t always have all these monsters?” When Eskel looked over at him Duncan was looking right back at him mildly perplexed.

Keeping his head tilted to hold Duncan’s gaze for a moment Eskel realized that he had no idea what Eskel meant by The Conjunction. It was ancient history now, and not something that people talked about daily. Duncan didn’t know that there was a time when the The Continent wasn’t the way it was now.

Raising his good eyebrow at Duncan, Eskel smirked, “Nope.” Relaxing his head and hands back down to the ground Eskel stared up at the sky. “More’n a millenia an’ a half ago we had The Conjunction of Spheres. It was a catastrophic alignment of many dimensions—Rhys says you call them planes—an’ things from all the different dimensions leaked over to here. The first human races, vampires, all kinds of monsters. The alignment was broken an’ all that had crossed over was trapped here. Without any natural predators the monsters ran amok. Humans overtook the native Aen Seidhe, or elves I guess you would call them.”

“Schools had to be opened to make an’ train witchers like us jus’ to be able to kill some of the beasts.” Shrugging Eskel continued, “a lucky farmer, or a skilled soldier can handle a drowner, but a forktail is a whole ‘nother thing.”

Grunting softly at Eskel’s tale Duncan spoke up again, “That’s incredible and not too different from some things that happened on our world.”

“Tell me ‘bout it. ‘Bout London too, where you’re from. Any monsters there? An’ you said you don’t carry weapons like a sword, how do you protect yourselves then? Rhys’ magic is good but against a shaelmaar even someone as strong as you needs a weapon.” Genuine curiosity filled Eskel’s voice. He wanted to know more about Duncan and Rhys, about their lives outside their time here.

***

Duncan took some time to consider his answer. He rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "Okay, so our world didn't have monsters for a long time either. But a couple of decades ago, there suddenly was magic again and everything that came with it. Animals you could probably call monsters - new ones and magical versions of normal animals."

"With the magic, orks, trolls, dwarves and elves came into the world, too. People just turned into orks and trolls - that still happens with kids that get born human sometimes. Rhys turned, I was born an ork." Duncan smoothed his mohawk down with one hand while he thought.

"Our world is --dangerous in some places, in others it's much less dangerous. But you mostly have to worry about other people. Most monsters, you have to seek out." He remembered the Barrens and rephrased. "Unless you're poor as shit and live in some slum, then you get both the monsters and the human predators. And then you better get your hands on a weapon."

"You have fireworks here, right? Imagine shooting a metal ball, propelled by black powder - there's enough force behind it to carry it pretty far and to tear very ugly holes in people and monsters. That kind of weapon is common in our world. If you ever come over, I can show you." He grinned hugely. "Some people still carry swords and they're good with it, but give me a gun any time in a fight."

***

Unclipping a Grapeshot from his belt Eskel tossed it gently in the air a few inches and caught it. “Hmm, like my Grapeshot bomb full of metal balls, only one ball an’ a lot more accurate? You’d have aim it exactly where you needed it.”

Clipping the bomb back to his belt Eskel pondered the idea of going to their world for a moment. He would like to. To see new things, to be taught about a new place, to spend time with these two and get to know them even more. “I’d like that, I ‘magine it takes a lot of practice, jus’ like a sword.”

Orks, trolls, dwarves, and elves—their world had everything the Continent did, except that orks were extinct here—Eskel wondered if they were they same there as here. Something niggled at the back of his mind though. Duncan said some humans _turned_ into orks or trolls. A tightness in his gut pulled at him and reminded him of how the Trials changed a human into a witcher. It was brutal. And deadly.

“You said sometimes a child is born human an’ then turns into an ork or troll. Does that mean a lotta those children die in the process? During our Trials, when they mutate us as children only one of ten lives through it. Breakin’ a human body an’ makin’ somethin’ new from it isn’t… easy.” Eskel held his silence after asking, waiting for confirmation of the answer he already knew was coming. Already he wanted to pull Rhys close and kiss the back of his neck, tell him he understood.

***

"Yeah, people die from it. A lot of people did when it first happened because they were adults. My parents turned back then. And when it happens with kids now, they are not that young - ten or twelve, maybe even older." Duncan flicked at some grass stalks on his shirt.

"It's safer when they can get a good doctor and medication to help with the pain and the fever. But a lot of people aren't that rich back home and orks and trolls often live shitty lives. So when it happens to their kids or to a kid with a poor family, they often die. Or it leaves them damaged in some way, in body or mind or both." Duncan looked up at Eskel again but didn't really see him. He was very far away. 

"My brother turned. He was this scrawny kid when we met and then he turned into a troll. I stole what I could for him. Food, medication, got us a safe place to stay. It took two weeks and for most of it, he was completely out of it. When he wasn't, he kept screaming. And you could _see_ him changing, the way his muscles grew, his bones." With an abrupt shake of his head, Duncan came back to the present.

He shrugged, took a deep breath. "It was a little easier for Rhys. You can ask him, he doesn't mind talking about it. His family isn't rich but they live in a community where people take care of each other. And no one gave him shit about being an ork there, not at home at least. That's important to have. The rest of the world gives you plenty of shit for it. My parents and my sister were orks, too, and it was good to have that, as long as it lasted. Someone who gets it. Like you and Geralt have each other, you understand things no one else does about each other."

***

“Hmm.” Eskel fiddled mindlessly with his sword belt. “_Safer_ but never really safe, even with doctors an’ medicine. I’m glad the two of you found each other, like me an’ Geralt. Someone to make sense out of the world with.” Thinking about Sad Albert and all the other children that came with him and didn’t make it out of the Trials Eskel frowned.

“‘M not sad ‘bout havin’ been changed, but ‘m glad we don’t take children in an’ make ‘em go through that anymore. The cost is too high, an’ a proper army can be trained to handle the larger monsters—if a king or queen is willing to do it for their realm’s safety. Better’n watching more brothers suffer’n die.” Putting his hands behind his head again, Eskel let out a long protracted sigh.

“Our wolf brother Lambert was one of the last witchers made.” Eskel barked out a sudden laugh, mood changing instantly from sour memories to eager humor. “I sorta hope you never meet him. He’s an ass an’ you’ll wanna punch him in the face.” 

Smiling effortlessly not even bothering to hide the way it pulled at his face Eskel turned to look Duncan in the face. “He’s soft inside I promise, he’s jus’ bitter an’ angry. We love him anyway an’ he likes to think he hates us for it, but he doesn’t.” 

“Alright, I wanna hear more about these monsters your world has. Magical plants and animals?” Eskel crossed his ankles and prepared to hear a good story. It was almost like hearing tales of the other witchers Path’s at the start of winter in Kaer Morhen.

***

"Rhys has his own collection of magical plants. One of them is a vine that tries to murder every other plant we put on its shelf by throwing them off. Another one is a little tree that grows exploding seeds. Kind of like a grapeshot bomb, except filled with really sharp darts and it only explodes when something warm-blooded comes near it so the darts stick in the skin of the animal. Or ork. It's a very loud explosion, too. Luckily, Rhys' tree is tiny and only ever grows two or three seeds at a time but normally they are big, like these", Duncan waved up at the beeches they are camped under.

He thought for a while before continuing. "I haven't met many monsters where they usually live, but people often use trained barghests to protect their property. They're huge dogs, like butcher dogs. Only bigger and with eyes and teeth that glow in the dark. They're bad news for their size and teeth alone, but they have a howl that can paralyze people. Or make them so crazy with fear, they run away blindly." 

Duncan shuddered a bit at his next thought. "One monster you'll see often, especially if you live in a slum, are devil rats. They're a good meter long, without the tail, and they are actually smart, even smarter than normal rats. They can control normal rats, too. But the worst thing about them is that if you get bitten, there's a chance you get a disease that turns you into a ghoul. Or it kills you while it tries to turn you. Lots of ghouls are left mindless monsters, others stay intelligent and aware. And _they_ are the ones you have to be careful with."

"If you're not, at least where I grew up, they catch you, sell your organs and eat the rest. I'd rather have the mindless ones who are just predators, like a mountain lion or a bear or whatever. I can deal with that, even though they are extremely hard to put down." Duncan chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. "Although there are some ghouls who are just -people. Trying to make a living. And it sucks for them. My brother took one of them in, they still work together. Gaichu is a little weird, but nice enough? Just this guy who doesn't say much. Didn't trust him at first but he has saved my ass more than once." 

Duncan laughed out loud. "When Rhys and I got married, he was one of the guests and imagine explaining _that_ to the people who did the food for the wedding. In the end, he brought his own food and people just had to deal with it. It's not like he was eating half a leg at the table or something."

***

One hand unconsciously straying to his medallion, fingers curling tight around it Eskel’s mind caught on the end of Duncan’s story. “Hold up. I don’t understand. I mean I do, about the beasts, we have a lot of the same ones here, though some behave differently. But…” Squeezing his fingers around the wolf’s head once hard Eskel let go and turned on his side to face Duncan, tucking his arm up under his head as a pillow. “... you said you an’ Rhys got _married_. I don’t understand how?”

Witchers didn’t marry, or father children, and while Geralt may have found a way around the second with his Surprise Child Ciri, the first was fairly set in stone. Not quite as set in stone as the fact that no church on the Continent was going to allow two men to marry though, that was something that Eskel had been sure of his whole life. So much so that the mere possibility of it had never even crossed his mind. Yet, Duncan wasn’t the type to lie either and Eskel _had_ to know this.

***

Duncan blinked and realized that he had just casually rocked Eskel's world. He couldn't tell if Eskel was just surprised or upset. The whole thing about witchers having no emotions was so much bullshit, but Eskel could be hard to read. Simply explaining was probably Duncan's best option here.

"We didn't go to a church or anything although we could have, with some churches at least. A druid from where Rhys grew up performed the ceremony - he's an old friend of Rhys' family and we both like him, so we asked him. That was just for us, though, not for the law. But it was the part we invited everyone to." Duncan smiled at the memory - they had celebrated in a huge barn at Rhys' parents farm and it had been a night of good food, drinks and stories.

"Later, we had it made official. Had the marriage registered and everything. You can do that back home, no matter who you are. Well. If you have the money to pay the fees and stuff." He decided to not go into the whole problem of people being SINless and thus not recognized citizens, it wasn't the important part here.

"It's been like that for a couple of decades for much of the world. Not everywhere, but we're getting there. Some people are still assholes to gay people but honestly, once the world had to deal with stuff like ghouls and dragons and a quarter of the population turning into orks and trolls, a guy loving another guy and wanting to marry him suddenly became much less of a problem. And it had started to become less of a problem for people even before that." Duncan stopped talking and waited for Eskel to catch up. He still didn't have any idea if he had hit a nerve in a bad way or if Eskel was just curious and taken aback.

***

Closing his eyes for a moment Eskel tried to settle his head. “A druid? An’ you jus’ asked him to marry you? I can’t even ‘magine that.”

Trying to for a moment Eskel pictured Ciri walking Geralt toward him and the shy smile on Geralt’s face. It made his eyes ache and he shoved the thought away. “We’ve been together five decades at least. There’ve been times when things were not good an’ we parted for a while, but we’ve always been near. An’ never once did it occur to me that I could marry the man.”

“Witchers don’t marry, an’ we’re sterile so we can’t give you children anyway. We’re made to do a job an’ eventually die while doin’ it.” Eskel blinked his eyes open and looked at Duncan. “Kinda morbid, not really true anymore either I don’t think. Geralt has Ciri, she’s… sort of adopted? It’s more than that, she was his Surprise Child. He took her in when she was young, an’ everyone sort of pitched in to raise her. ‘M kinda like an uncle to her.”

“But no one here would ever marry two men. We’re lucky enough to have friends that don’t look down on us, that we don’t have to hide in front of. They’re happy for us. Dandy, those at our vineyard, even Lambert though he’ll only bitch about the noise. Outside of our friends we keep things, discreet. It’s easier. Usually people give us a wide berth jus’ because we are witchers, they don’t even make it to askin’ why two men are travelin’ together.” The image of Geralt’s shy smile still rang in the back of Eskel’s mind. He wanted to reach out and touch it.

Not wanting to dwell on it, Eskel pushed all of it away and focused back on Duncan’s monsters. “We have barghests here too. They glow greenish all over and can blind you temporarily or spit flames at you. An’ they run in packs, the evil fuckers. We have all kinds of necrophages—what you called a ghoul is just one—but none of ours are truly sentient, that I know of. That is a terrifying thought, an’ I can’t imagine one that still kept some humanity trying to just live. That’s harsh.”

“We have some mutated plants that can grow over where an unsettled dead has fallen. You’ll see those as we get into Toussaint. They’re called archespores. That’s probably our only real monstrous plant. You can’t count a leshen, they’re sentient creatures that are closer to elementals.” Eskel was happy to hear Geralt’s laugh carrying through the trees, the light was fading fast and he was getting hungry. 

Letting his hearing take over he sensed too many footsteps for just the two of them though, but Geralt sounded at ease so he didn’t worry. “Sounds like we have company.” Taking a long sniff Eskel harrumphed. “Can’t smell if we’ve got dinner or not though, must be downwind.”

***

Duncan gave Eskel a thoughtful glance. He didn't want to push but it was clear Eskel was still chewing on the whole marriage thing. But he would ask if and when he was ready, Duncan figured.

It turned out that Geralt and Rhys hadn't found dinner, but they had found a small group of elves who had been chased out of the nearest village and had gladly accepted the invitation to spend the night under the protection of two witcher and two orks.

Thrown together, their provisions made for a surprisingly satisfying stew. Rhys had found some small apples on a tree that were sweet and delicious after roasting them in the embers for a while.

Duncan licked the last of the juice from his fingers. The elves had stayed mostly quiet during dinner, leaving conversation to the others. They were friendly enough when Geralt or Rhys asked them things and answered freely, but didn't volunteer much of their own. 

It was clear they had been through a lot and from the little they did say, Duncan put together a story of violence and fear. He didn't need to ask, he had seen too much of this for himself. Had been the one hiding somewhere while people hurt and killed others who looked just like him.

It wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. He nodded in the direction of one of the elves, a woman who had introduced herself as Mairéad. 

"Do you play?" Duncan had caught sight of her checking on an instrument looked vaguely like a fiddle in its case, clearly a prized possession she had wanted to make sure hadn't been broken in their flight.

She nodded and understood his meaning, taking the fiddle out and plucking a few notes, preparing her bow. Catching the eye of Ruaidhrí, the man Duncan guessed to be her husband, they both got up. The melody they played was simple - Ruaidhrí's flute winding around the sweet notes of the fiddle. But it made Duncan's heart ache with thoughts of home.

Duncan loved music and he loved hearing the music the Continent had to offer, all new and fresh to him. And he saw the others relax around the fire, how it took their mind of their worries for a little while at least. 

Mairéad's next song was a little faster, more cheerful. Ruaidhrí sang, in a language Duncan didn't understand but there was no need to. 

When they had ended, Mairéad cocked her head at Duncan: "Do you know any songs?"

With a grin, Duncan stood. "I do. Can you play this?" He hummed the melody for her and she picked it up fast until they were throwing it back and forth between them, with Duncan and Ruaidhrí clapping the rhythm. It was fast-paced and Duncan had to concentrate not to stumble over the words - his Russian was almost non-existent except for a handful of songs.

_На горе стоял казак - он Богу молился.  
За свободу, за народ низко поклонился  
Ойся, ты ойся, ты меня не бойся.  
Я тебя не трону - ты не беспокойся._

***

The rich harmony immediately caught Eskel’s attention. It was quick and when Duncan’s baritone broke into it Eskel couldn’t help the desire to move. With a half-smirk and a twinkle in his eye he glanced over at Geralt.

“Oh no. You’re on your own. Maybe Rhys likes to dance. I don’t dance and you know it.” Despite his refusal to dance, Eskel could see the interest in Geralt’s face, his whole body orienting itself toward Duncan unconsciously. Leaning back further into his saddle which was serving as a makeshift backrest, angling himself toward Duncan, Geralt shook his head at Eskel.

The fire was burning warm and bright, coloring everything in the camp in tones of burnt umber and orange. “Fine, old man.” Eskel’s eyes hunted around the elves, past Duncan, and to Rhys. “How ‘bout it? Wanna dance with me, ‘cause if you don’t ‘m gonna hafta beg Duncan.” Even trying not to pull his scars on the right side Eskel’s smile reached his eyes, and the dark honey irises there sparkled with a carefree sincerity that said he would.

***

"Oh, I dance." Rhys got up immediately and pulled Eskel to his feet with ease. Stepping away quickly, Rhys swung him around, away from the fire to where they had some space to move.

Any dance lessons Rhys had had were way too long ago but they weren't much help here anyway, so he just followed the music. Let Eskel spin him around, pull him close again. Danced away from Eskel and made him catch up so Rhys could do a quick turn right into Eskel's arms and away again.

Rhys caught Duncan's eye over the fire and with a grin, Duncan launched into the song all over again so they could keep dancing. Now that he was sure on his feet and in the rhythm of the song, Rhys had time to watch Eskel and admire his grace, even in this carefree, casual moment. No second of lost balance and a lot of hidden strength in his lithe movements, revealed every time he caught Rhys in his arms.

The quick turns made Rhys dizzy and he collapsed in a giggling heap when the song ended, pulling Eskel down with him.

***

Careful to catch himself as he fell on top of Rhys, Eskel couldn’t hold back the full grin on his face even though he knew it pulled at his scars horribly. Rhys didn’t mind and maybe the elves would be too distracted to notice.

Picking a piece of grass out of Rhys’ hair, Eskel laughed. “Thank you. Dancin’ is good for a person.” Pushing himself up off of Rhys and jumping up Eskel reached down and pulled Rhys up to standing. A quick glance around revealed the elves were indeed distracted, playing their instruments and looking at Duncan to see if he would sing again.

Eskel stole the moment to draw Rhys into a strong hug, rising up on his toes to nose by Rhys’ ear. “Hey. I want you to know that I am glad you lived. Like me an’ Geralt. Through your change.” Placing a quick kiss there Eskel pulled away and turned his attention back to the camp, pulling Rhys along by the hand.

“Duncan, sing again?” Eskel called out. Turning quickly he pushed Rhys into Geralt’s lap. “I wanna see these two dance!”

***

Rhys didn't give Geralt any time to think. He grabbed his hand and pulled him upright from where he was lounging on the forest floor. It made Geralt give a small surprised gasp. 

Figuring that surprise made it easiest to get what he wanted from Geralt, Rhys gently but firmly took him around the waist and steered him to what was becoming their dance floor. Duncan had started another song, just as fast as the first one and after a short while, the instruments had picked up on it. 

This time, Rhys led the dance and showed Geralt what to do with little pushes. Geralt quickly got over his professed dislike of dancing though and soon they were spinning and turning across the clearing to the laughter and clapping of the others. 

Rhys caught Geralt after a quick turn and held him for a moment, grinning widely. "Not bad for a centenarian."

***

Watching from the side as Rhys gave Geralt tiny shoves to guide him around. It was amazing to see how Geralt went with it, allowed Rhys to prompt him to dance until he was going along willingly. 

Clapping with the beat of the music Eskel sat back and watched. Entertained by the way Rhys coaxed Geralt into enjoying himself, knowing that Geralt generally didn’t dance, didn’t see the point in it. Seeing him let go with Rhys was charming and it made Eskel feel warm inside in a way the fire didn’t. When Rhys caught Geralt in a hug Eskel saw what was coming, and he smirked, controlling a laugh.

Taking advantage of the moment to squat down and grab him by the waist, Geralt hoisted Rhys bodily over his shoulder. Rhys gave a surprised yelp, and burst into giggles as Geralt carried him back across the camp, depositing him into Eskel’s lap. With a soft smile Geralt stalked over to Duncan, folding himself up in the grass at Duncan’s feet. Leaning against Duncan’s leg, Geralt wrapped one arm around it possessively, as if Duncan would shelter him from the possibility of being drug out to dance again.

Duncan slid his fingers though Geralt’s ponytail, then began mindlessly stroking the side of Geralt’s head. Drifting into the sensation Geralt leaned his head against Duncan’s massive thigh and sighed easily.

Meanwhile Rhys had looped his arms around Eskel’s neck, grinning happily up at him from where he’d been placed in Eskel’s lap. “Come dance with me again?” Scratching his fingertips across the stubble on Eskel’s cheek Rhys lounged effortlessly in Eskel’s arms.

Turning to place a quick kiss on Rhys’ palm and wishing he could shave that stubble off Eskel spoke into Rhys’ hand. “Sure.” Letting Rhys get up Eskel held out his hand to be pulled up, to feel a bit of the strength he’d just witnessed Rhys use on Geralt. On his feet again, Eskel followed Rhys out to the makeshift dance floor. Twirling and catching Rhys with the beat, Eskel dipped him low and avoided the temptation to kiss Rhys’ bare neck. 

Dropping into a crouch Eskel kicked out one leg, then hopping to the other kicked out the first, clapping as the music sped up. Faster and faster Eskel kicked and hopped grinning at Rhys as he made an effort to match his pace, slowly turning in a circle with Eskel until the music suddenly stopped, and they both fell over laughing.

For several more songs Rhys and Eskel danced until they were breathless with laughter and Eskel’s face hurt from grinning so much. Eventually, they wandered back into the camp proper and settled on the grass. Duncan sat down where he was and his arm immediately went around Geralt’s shoulders, pulling him in close.

Though the elves may have been surprised at first by the northerners open displays of affection they quickly let it go. Aen Seidhe lived long lives and tended to partner with those whom they cared for, without as much regard to gender roles as the humans of the Continent. Geralt guessed it was probably more shocking to them to see it displayed openly than anything else. They weren’t blind after all, they’d probably suspected as much from the beginning.

***

They shared a bottle of pepper vodka and talked. Duncan was curious about the songs the elves had sung and wanted to know more about their music. He in turn had to explain what his songs were about to them, all while holding Geralt in his arm.

After a while, he noticed that only he and Mairéad were still fully awake. Everyone else has retreated to their bedrolls. Geralt was dozing leaning against Duncan.

She smiled at him, the last embers of the fire giving a warm shine to her long dark hair. "We should call it a night. We want to be on our way early tomorrow."

"You know where you will go?" Duncan asked without knowing what to do if she said no. But if she did, he wanted to figure something out.

"Yes, I have relatives a few days' travel from here. We'll go there." She touched his hand quickly. "There's no need to worry, we can manage. But thank you for sharing your fire tonight. And your songs."

With a nod, she went to join her husband and Duncan gently nudged Geralt until he was awake enough to stumble the few steps to their blankets. Pulling Geralt close, Duncan looked over to where Rhys and Eskel had curled up and smiled to himself. He was awake for a bit longer, listening to the strange call of a bird Rhys had told him was a nightjar, and then fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English Translation for the song Duncan sings:
> 
> The Prayer of a Cossack  
In the mountain a Cossack stood. He prayed to God,  
For the freedom, for the nation, bowed very low.
> 
> Oysya, you oysya, don't fear me,  
I won't touch you, don't worry.
> 
> And the Cossack also asked will for the nation,  
If there were will, there would be freedom too.
> 
> Oysya, you oysya, don't fear me,  
I won't touch you, don't worry.
> 
> And also if you are curious a few videos of it [with dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFjlYyYEGx0&feature=youtu.be) and [in baritone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzbOilUqgwI) like Duncan sings.


	9. Words and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _All of Beauclair was alive with music, the smell of smashed grapes, and the raucous laughter of a city at play. Geralt had insisted that the orks and Eskel come at midday to the Festival of the Vat in the city to see it with their own eyes, even though Corvo Bianco would be holding its own smaller version for the workers that evening._  
A few new ideas for Eskel and a feast for everyone.

Corvo Bianco was beautiful and Rhys enjoyed staying there, exploring the vineyard and the surrounding countryside. There were even more new plants to see at every step and his collection grew. The majordomo had helped him rig up a press to start his herbarium and Duncan had stopped complaining about sheets of paper weighed down with stones and books and whatever Rhys could find taking over their room.

Rhys would have enjoyed himself more if it hadn't been painfully obvious Eskel had something on his mind. Most of the time, he was cheerful enough but Rhys was very sure that the way he watched Geralt at times and sighed to himself, or that the long walks he took alone were not normal for him. He could tell by Geralt's reaction. Geralt didn't seem exactly worried but _something_ was up.

When Duncan and Geralt were out sparring together, somewhere where they wouldn't have an audience of curious vineyard workers, Rhys used his chance. He caught Eskel on his way downstairs and Eskel joined him willingly enough when Rhys asked to talk to him.

Sitting on the bed in the guest room upstairs where Duncan and he stayed, Rhys patted the mattress, inviting Eskel to sit with him. "Maybe this is none of my business and I won't take it the wrong way if you tell me that, but what is bothering you? You've been in a mood ever since that night with the elves. Can I do anything to help?"

***

With a huff Eskel plopped down onto the mattress next to Rhys, then thought better of it and let himself fall over on his side behind Rhys. Curling into a fetal position with Rhys’ back against his stomach, Eskel let out a long sigh. Arm under his head as a pillow Eskel closed his eyes against everything that had been swirling in his mind since he had talked with Duncan that day.

“I don’t know. ‘M jus’…” Eskel didn’t even know where to begin. “…confused?”

There was no tension in Rhys’ body in front of him and that was calming. Rhys looked over and down at him. “About?”

“Not ‘bout the four of us. That feels surprisingly easy, natural even.” Risking a quick glance up at Rhys before closing his eyes again Eskel knew that was probably a worry of Rhys’. 

“When you an’ Geralt went lookin’ for plants in the woods that day me an’ Duncan talked. ‘Bout a buncha things. Weapons,” smiling softly to himself at the memory Eskel continued, “monsters, your world. An’ somethin’ ‘bout it I didn’t know—that you two got married. That it was-” pausing Eskel tried to wrap his head around it still, “-that two men could even _get_ married there, that it was possible…”

Wanting to bury himself in the bed, Eskel’s words drifted off. He was brought back by the soft touch of Rhys’ hand carding through his hair.

Fingers gently sifting through Eskel’s strands Rhys’ thumb rubbed over his temple. “Do you want to marry Geralt?”

Remembering the image of Ciri walking Geralt towards him Eskel felt hot tears rolling down his face. “I don’t know. Yes.” He swallowed and curled in further around Rhys. “I don’t need to. It wouldn’t change anything. We’ve always known we’d be together, an’ it never occurred to me before because witchers don’ marry, an’ in this world men sure as fuck don’ marry other men. So it didn’t matter. I don’ know why it would matter all of a sudden jus’ because I know there are places where they can.”

Face aching with the effort of keeping back what tears he could, Eskel babbled on. “I feel stupid, for even being so consumed by this. I never needed this before an’ I don’ need it now but I want it?” Looking up at Rhys Eskel knew his face was hot and his eyes were red, but at least Rhys wasn’t going to judge him for bawling like a toddler. 

“It’s jus’… I’d like to be able to say Geralt is mine in that way, an’ that ‘m his, but there's no real reason, it's not like it would mean anythin' here, to a church or a country. ‘M sorry, ‘m repeating myself.” Sniffling Eskel brought his other arm up to his head, curling it under as well.

“Every time I think about Ciri bringing him down to me wearing that smile an’ a flower crown though, I wanna cry like this. So instead I go for a walk.” Feeling a bit of relief at having let it out to someone Eskel closed his eyes, and let the tears come. Breath stuttering in and out of his lungs uncontrolled. Rhys’ hand soothing in his hair, gentle strokes, in the silence while Eskel let his emotions settle back beneath the surface.

***

Rhys let Eskel cry. It needed to get out, Eskel had been carrying this around with him for days now. Curling up with Eskel and hugging him so Eskel could hide in his embrace, Rhys waited for the storm to pass.

When there were only sniffles, Rhys propped himself up on one elbow, the other arm still around Eskel, palm moving in circles on his back.

"Duncan and I didn't _need_ to get married. We both knew that we belong to each other long before that. But needing and wanting are two very different things. Duncan asked me to marry him not because we had any need of it, but because he wanted to say 'I'm yours' in that particular way and I married him for that same reason." Rhys smiled at the memory of Duncan asking him, out of the blue and then looking like he would just keel over from nervousness.

"It changed nothing between us and it changed everything between us. We still are the same and we treat each other the same as we did before. But there is something to making this promise, this declaration out loud. Whether it's only to each other or in front of people. Rituals have power and this is a very powerful one. A lot of people are perfectly happy going without it and I would have been, too. But I'm also glad we did this. Even if it had been just the two of us, with no one to witness it." Rhys let his hand wander up to Eskel's face and leaned back a little so he could look at him, trace a fingertip over Eskel's scars there.

"You should talk to Geralt about this. Don't want until you have figured everything out. Just decide if it's something you really want and then ask him. You can do the figuring out how you will do this together." He placed a kiss to Eskel's temple. "And I think you've already decided, haven't you?"

***

"Yeah. 'S what I really want." Choking on his own tiny laugh Eskel pressed his face against Rhys hand to feel the warmth against the ache of his scars. The corners of his lips had turned up at the thought. "You say it like 's easy though. Jus' ask 'im an' he'll say yes, an' someone marries us in the yard."

Shaking his head Eskel let out a slow breath to try and get his lungs under control. "I don't wanna ask Geralt to hide in the backroom to do this, even if we don't advertise it later. We should at least be able to do it right, with close friends and what family we've got."

Another deep breath and Eskel pulled Rhys close. "You're right. I need to jus' talk to Geralt. He'll be as shocked as me." Cuddling in as close as he could and letting Rhys engulf him Eskel asked, "Stay with me an' nap? M' face is too puffy to go downstairs now."

***

"Sure." Rhys wrapped himself around Eskel. "I agree that you should invite people. Have a feast to celebrate. If you want to, find someone you both like to perform the rite or you just promise each other."

He laughed quietly. "I'm not saying that you should go and just ask Geralt out of the blue to marry him. I'm saying you should talk to him, bring up the whole idea and _then_ ask him when the time seems right. You'll know."

Eskel nodded against Rhys' chest but didn't reply with more than a hum. Rhys didn't press him, he could understand needing a break right now. Settling down, he closed his eyes and dozed a little.

He was woken by Eskel sitting up and stretching. The sun had wandered quite a bit, Duncan and Geralt would be back soon. Rhys hugged Eskel from behind.

"Do you feel better?" He nosed against Eskel's neck.

"Mhm. Much. Thank you." Eskel leaned back into him.

"Oh! I have something to give you!" Rhys clambered off the bed and dug in the desk drawer with his sketchbooks. "If you want them."

He held out some sketches to Eskel, done in red and white chalk and charcoal. One he had done mostly from memory, a moment of their first evening together with Eskel in full storytelling mode, hands spread and smiling unguardedly. Geralt was sitting at his side with a smile of his own, the one people wear when they watch a loved one doing something while unaware of being watched. It had been the moment Rhys had decided that Eskel was obviously the right man for Geralt.

The other sketches were scenes he had caught along the way to Corvo Biano. Eskel and Geralt sparring. The two of them side by side on their horses. Bickering over how to best cook dinner, Geralt caught in the moment he gave in to Eskel's stubborn patience with loving exasperation written all over his face.

"I treated them, they shouldn't smudge. Just don't let them get wet, obviously." Rhys stood back as Eskel looked at the sketches. He always was nervous when he gave away art and this was no different.

***

Taking in the sketches in awe, Eskel was completely taken aback to see his and Geralt’s likeness brought to life on paper. Common folks didn’t get portraits of themselves, and the only art Eskel had ever seen featuring witchers were the huge murals on the walls at Kaer Morhen. Those and the painting from Beauclair that Geralt kept hidden in the bedroom.

These were nothing like that though. Quiet moments, bits of their everyday life, forever stopped in time on paper. Carefully setting the sketches down on the bed Eskel looked at Rhys dumbfounded. “How could I not want these? They’re ‘mazing.”

Rushing up to swallow Rhys in a hug and swing him around before setting him down, Eskel kept his face right up against Rhys’ neck. “You’re ‘mazing.”

***

Rhys’ arms wrapped around Eskel’s neck. “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about too.” 

“Wa’s that?” Eskel didn’t detect any of the real worry in his voice that had been present earlier, so he tried to stay relaxed, not to lose his now pleasant mood.

“That same night with the elves when we danced. You told me you were glad I survived. It took me a few moments to realize what you meant. Duncan must have told you about goblinization too?” Long slender fingers played at the hair on the back of Eskel’s neck, repetitive and soothing.

***

And now it was Eskel’s turn to take a moment. “He told me you turned into an ork, ‘stead of bein’ born that way like ‘im. ‘S that what ‘s called? Goblinization?” Dropping his hands down to Rhys’ ass Eskel gripped him and hefted there. Urging Rhys to hop up and wrap his legs around him.

When he did, Eskel carried him over to the comfy chair Geralt liked to use for reading and sat down with Rhys in his lap. “When we’re taken as Surprise Children we’re human. Then we’re changed into witchers in a series of Trials as youths. One Trial after ‘nother, until we are no longer human anymore. During the Trials most children die, only a few survive. When Duncan said you’d changed, I knew that makin’ a human into somethin’ else—an ork—was dangerous an’ you were lucky to ‘ave lived. Lucky an’ strong.” 

Sighing thoughtfully Eskel explained, “I had to tell you then that I was glad you lived ‘cause, in this world you never know what tomorrow brings. An’ if you hadn’t I think there is a lot ‘bout m’self I might not ‘ave learned.”

***

Rhys moved around a bit until he had found a comfortable position, arms on Eskel's shoulders, hands buried in his hair. "I was lucky to have my family and all the people who lived with us who knew what to do. I can't remember much of it. Just the pain, and even the memory of that fades. And waking up when it was over, changed. It was—probably not as much of a problem for me as it could have been. My parents are human, but they live in a community with many orks and trolls. I didn't feel so different."

"Yes, it was hard to get used to at first. I'm the only ork in my family. Suddenly, I was bigger than my mum and soon than my dad, too. And the teeth were weird. But honestly, no one cared all that much." He laughs out loud. "It made telling them I was gay pretty easy in comparison when I figured _that_ out. That I like only men, I mean. And a year after changing, my magic woke. That was a big deal, mostly because my parents were afraid that someone would come and steal me away. Like—a wealthy person, who wants their own mage. Not exactly like that, but close enough. But it turns out they are not all that interested in shamans. We are hard to control."

"Tell me about the Law of Surprise. You mentioned it before. What happens when the child is a girl? You refused to take yours, is that normal? And was it really so common as to have enough children? It's not like people _don't_ expect their kids to be around when they come home. Do you think that the act of invoking the Law was already enough to influence fate, set something in motion? I can see that happening, as a magical pact of sort." Rhys took a breath, stopping himself in his enthusiasm. "I'm sorry, this is not some theory to discuss, some intellectual exercise. I don't want to make light of this. You don't need to talk about this if you don't want to."

***

Settling back into the chair Eskel let his head rest against it. "'S alright. I don't mind tellin' you. 'M glad you had people around to help with your change. No one should have to do that alone." Thinking it over for a minute Eskel set one hand on the armrest and let the other draw tiny circles on Rhys' hip.

"I told you that before we become witchers we're Children of Surprise. That's true an' not. Some are, some aren't. By invokin' the Law you're namin' as your price _what they find at home but don't expect_. An' while that's not always a child—I've heard of a fair number of strange payments—it is always somethin' precious in one way or another. You would think people always expect their children when they come home, but it could be as simple as they thought they were going to be at the neighbors farm, or out with their mother in town. I wouldn't doubt that by invokin' it you call on some of the Chaos of this world. That's the force that exists here an' is harnessed to cast magic. Since all witchers can cast Signs it's possible the Law is a type of spell or pact." Rhys had started to rub Eskel's temples with his thumbs and it drew a sigh out of him.

"For every ten children who start the Trials one lives to see the end. Surprise Children could never supply enough to sustain that. But war? Famine? Poverty? Sure." Eskel looked deep into Rhys' eyes. "Folks leave the children they can't feed or never wanted in the towns close to the keeps and they get brought up to be trained."

Removing his hand from Rhys' hip Eskel reached up into play with his braid. "I didn't take Deidre. An' no that wasn't normal. I told no one about her, not even Geralt. I can say that even avoiding her we were attached by Fate—a form of magic. And it wasn't because she was a girl. Witchers take girls. The Trials change them. The Choice, the first part, is a special diet. Special mushrooms an' herbs that combined with hard physical training, give a witcher their muscular an' manly body. Then the Grasses, Dreams, and Mountain. Regardless of how you start your trials you end them as a man." Eskel let Rhys' braid slide through his fingers. 

"The Trials are brutal. Unbelievable pain, fevers, vomiting, an' bleeding. You wake up an' you can see in the dark, hear everythin', smell everythin'. 'S horrible. You wanna vomit jus' from that. Your sterile. All witchers are men in the end, some have cocks, some don't. At least they didn't die like the others?" Shrugging, Eskel didn't really know how to explain it any better.

***

Rhys was quiet for a while, thinking over what Eskel had told him. "I can sort of relate to the Trials—it's not unlike goblinization. More deadly. But it's a major change and it takes some getting used to everything . Greater height and strength—I broke a lot of stuff for a while. Other senses. Trolls can even sense heat. But I can't imagine going through all that and then having changed how the world sees me this much like it would for a girl going through the Trials."

"It changes that for all of you of course. But you still can look at yourself and basically recognize yourself? There's not this disconnect between what you feel and know you are and what your body is now and how everyone treats you." He gestured a little helplessly, unsure how to explain. "For you, being a witcher was new, for me being an ork was new and neither of us asked for that. But we do both still have a body that fits how we think of ourselves."

***

Seeing Rhys’ clear consternation at the idea of the witchers turning girls into men Eskel turned the idea around in his mind, rolled it over more than he had ever really bothered to before. There were so many other changes that came with the Trials that this one had never really stood out to him as much different than the others. “I ‘spose it would be distressing for some. Kinda how if you told me I had to be in a relationship with a woman instead of a man? 'M like you, I only like men.”

This was the only thing Eskel could think to compare it to, and thinking back on his youth when he wasn’t sure why he was different and the anxiety it had brought him, it made sense. But then he thought of Geralt and how he preferred neither men or women more. “But wouldn’t there be some girls, or even I don’t know, boys—like Geralt who enjoys the company of both men and women—don’t look at themselves and see one or the other, man or woman?” Cocking his head Eskel was curious to see what Rhys would make of that thought. “Maybe for those children it wouldn’t even matter?”

***

"It's less about who you like. It's a lot more about who you are. Imagine someone makes you into a woman, your body at least. It wouldn't change how you feel about who you like and about who you are, but it's no longer reflected by your body." Rhys flailed around a bit, trying to put these concepts into words in a language not suited to it and not his own.

"But there are people who don't feel like one or the other. Or who feel different from what the world sees them as, from how their body looks to others. For them, I guess it could be even a relief? Back home, people undergo surgery or treatment to change their body according to what they are. But it's not a one or the other situation, more a spectrum of possibilities?" Rhys sat back on Eskel's thighs, hands still playing with his hair.

"Who a person _likes_ is a whole other beast again. It hasn't much to do with who they are or what their body happens to look like." He gave a soft laugh. "It's complicated. There are words for this, but not in this language."

***

A small frown had spread on Eskel’s face as he tried to comprehend everything Rhys was talking about. Some of it made sense and some of it eluded him. Leaning his head against Rhys’ forearm, he kissed the inside of it and gave Rhys a reassuring look. “‘S confusin’ an’ complicated. I understand that what a person has inside their pants has no bearing on who they want to fuck. I mean ‘m a man an’ I only have an interest in the company of men—’M _gay_ as you called it. An’ if I were to wake up tomorrow in a woman’s body I don’ think that would change? I’d still like you an’ Geralt, but since I wouldn’t be a man anymore I wouldn’t be gay, I’d jus’ be normal? Like everyone else I mean. It doesn’t bother me to be this way. Not anymore.”

Rhys opened his mouth to speak and Eskel brought his braid around in front of his mouth to stop him, laughing silently with a smile on his face. “Wait,” Eskel insisted holding up a finger of his other hand from the chair in front of Rhys’ startled face, “lemme finish.” Eskel paused until Rhys looked like he wouldn’t interrupt before continuing. “I’d be normal. But I think what you’re sayin’ is my mind would still be tellin’ me I was a man? So some of those girls, grew up men, but still felt like women? Never mind who they wanted to fuck.” 

Almost ready to remove the braid from in front of Rhys’ mouth, Eskel decided he needed to make one thing very clear first. He knew why Rhys had wanted to talk so badly and he didn’t want Rhys to dwell on it. “An’ before you get all worked up tellin’ me that likin’ men doesn’t make me weird, I know that. Came to terms with that a long time ago, but I don’t have a word for everyone else. Until a moment ago I was just me, an’ Geralt was Geralt. I like men an’ he likes everyone. Then there’s everyone else—they’re normal ‘cause they’re the majority?” Smiling widely at Rhys heedless of how it made his scars look. “Now I’ve got a word for myself, but not the others. Thank you for that, too. It’s nice to have one.”

***

"It really is." Rhys had settled back and waited for Eskel to finish and what Eskel had said did reassure him.

"The word for Geralt and Duncan is bisexual, if you want to know. It's nice to have words, if you use them for yourself or not. Talking about things gets so much easier or just _knowing_ that this is something that exists. That you are not the only person who is that way." He wrapped a strand of Eskel's hair around his finger.

"It's why I imagine those girls have a hard time. They know they are witchers but they also know they are something else and there's no word for it. Unless they happen to meet another witcher like them who _talks_ about it, they might well think they are broken in some way and all alone with it. Imagine getting a body suddenly that feels wrong for who you are and then no one ever telling you that there are other people who share this - even people who aren't even witchers. Imagine no one ever telling you that loving men is nothing to be ashamed of and at the same time never coming to terms with the body the Trials gave you." Rhys shrugged, not sure he explained it any better than before.

"I never had that experience but I think it's hard to find your peace of mind there. Not that it can't be done - people adapt, it's not like this is a guarantee to be miserable your whole life. But it's not made any easier by not having the language to talk about it, even if it's only with one person. I come from a world that is—not all that bad in terms of acceptance and it _still_ was amazing to meet someone else who was gay for the first time. Or go to a place where people meet who aren't—part of the majority. And knowing that everyone is kind of like me there." He laughed out loud. "A witcher's keep—you're among yourselves there and there are things that everyone just understands because you all share them. Kind of like that, only it's a place like an inn or a bookstore or something where people can spend time."

***

“No one ever told me I shouldn’t be ashamed of who I liked. N’fact, I was told right away by someone I really respected that it was somethin’ I should be very careful of sharin’ ‘cause most people _would_ think I was a freak. Right ‘bout the same time I hit the Path as a new witcher. I spent a lot of time decidin’ for m’self that I didn’t want to be miserable in life.” Pondering what Rhys had brought up, Eskel quirked his mouth. “An’ I bet you’re right. Some of those girls probably were miserable. Like I was for a few decades.” 

“But, we don’ make witchers anymore. Don’ take Surprise Children. Ciri was the last. Maybe there was a time when men felt justified in doin’ that, but there’s no need now. Kings an’ queens could train armies to deal with most of the monsters that remain. Plenty are extinct now. Nilfgaard claims to’ve not needed a witcher in centuries.” Ciri had told him the stories of the great progress there. Even though she lived as a witcher she still watched the empire anonymously from afar. “I could never condone torturing children the way I was. It’s why I hid Deidre’s existence from everyone, until it came an’ bit me in the face. I couldn’t bring m’self to do that to another human, boy or girl.”

Pulling Rhys against him in a full hug Eskel blew out a long breath. “Ya’know I love talkin’ with you. I always learn somethin’.” Then he laughed. “Are there really places in your world where people like us jus’ go an’ relax together? In public? Like a bookstore I could take Geralt an’ hold his hand while he shopped? He would _love_ that.” Smiling at the thought Eskel decided if they went to Rhys’ home world he would have to get Rhys and Duncan to take them to such a place—just to see Geralt’s face.

***

"You can hold hands anywhere you please. At least in the city where we live, the whole country actually. People don't care." Rhys had heard from Duncan that he had already sort of invited the witchers and had agreed if would be fun. Complicated, but fun.

"If you come visit, we can take you to such a place. There's one we like to go to that makes delicious cake and also everyone is—okay, here's another word for you: everyone is queer. Men like us, women who love women, people who change their body to fit who they are and a lot of other people, queer is the name for all of that." Explaining all of this was _hard_ and he was ready for dinner and and some easier topics. But he did get a kick out of Eskel's joy at all the the concepts.

***

Eyebrows raised, the scarred one always lagging slightly below the other, Eskel was doubtful that no one would really care if touched Geralt in public like that. Even still, he had to admit he was feeling much less burdened and lot more at peace with how he felt about wishing he could share being with Geralt in a whole new way now. “I don’ know that I would go that far. S’not like everyone needs to know who ‘m with when I walk down the street.”

“I do wanna come visit though, Geralt too. We wanna see what ‘s like for the two of you where you live. You’ve seen so much of our world an’ we’ve got no idea really what your’s is like.” Enjoying the last few moments of Rhys’ weight on his lap, Eskel imagined leaving the Continent behind for a while, how everything would be different and new. It was stressful but he shook it off, it was still something he wanted to do.

“C’mon I can hear them downstairs. An’ whatever Marlene is cookin’ smells too good to miss.” Nudging Rhys out of the chair Eskel followed him down the stairs. Watching him move easily despite his height and hidden strength, all Eskel could think about was that he really was grateful that Rhys had survived his change.

~~~~~~

All of Beauclair was alive with music, the smell of smashed grapes, and the raucous laughter of a city at play. Geralt had insisted that the orks and Eskel come at midday to the Festival of the Vat in the city to see it with their own eyes, even though Corvo Bianco would be holding its own smaller version for the workers that evening.

Leaning on the low stone rails in front of one of the buildings that edged the square, Geralt looked out over the it. Bards played on a stage set up in the far corner, and booths were set up with wine, pastries, and cheeses for the festival goers. 

“Here they come!” Geralt announced, tilted his head towards a pair of strapping young men who each carried a young woman. One had his lady thrown over his shoulder. She was clearly giggling and halfheartedly beating her fists against his broad back as he made his way through the throng with her. The other woman was being carried bridal style, with her arms thrown around the man’s neck, beaming up at him. Both women’s skirts where hiked up and tied around their thighs, their feet bare.

“Those men are called ‘The Youths’ and they will carry their girls, ‘The Beauties’, to the wine vats across the square there.” Pointing at a set of old wooden grape crushing vats, Geralt continued, smiling brightly as he explained the festival to all of them. Since retiring for the life of a somewhat vintner Geralt had come to love the history of Beauclair, the process of growing the grapes, and making the wine. He still hated the bureaucracy and pretentiousness that the area was full of, but the love of wine had grown on him.

The three next to him looked varying levels of mildly amused to moderately interested so Geralt allowed himself to rattle on explaining the details of the festival. “Toussaint switched to using mechanical wine presses quite a while ago. More efficient, less solids to strain, and so on. But Beauclair is all about tradition and history—The Festival of the Vat celebrates that—so the wine vats in this scene will never go away.”

The men were roaring with laughter as they tipped their lady’s feet into the vats loaded with freshly harvested grapes. The crowd whooped and cheered along with them. Geralt even heard Eskel’s booming voice join in. “They’ll smash the grapes with their feet like old times, everyone will eat and drink till their completely drunk. Welcome to Beauclair.”

“We do a smaller version each year at the estate. It’ll be this evenin', for all the workers, to reward 'em for a good year.” Eskel’s voice broke in. “Maybe Duncan an’ I should dump you an’ Rhys in the vats. You’d both make good Beauties. Whaddya think?” He turned away from the spectacle in front of him to look at Geralt.

“Absolutely not.” Geralt remained deadpan and tried to keep his cool at the thought. “I’m sure B.B. already has it all arranged.”

Eskel laughed, it was lovely and low—going straight to Geralt’s gut. “Probably, knowin’ ‘im.”

They stayed for another hour or so, watched various different mummers, fire jugglers, and bards. Eating a pastry or three. Rhys and Duncan enduring the polite looks from a third of the city who couldn’t believe that they were seeing an ork for the first time in their life. Soon though it was time to head back to Corvo and set to work on throwing their own festival.

***

The festival at Corvo Bianco was much smaller in scale but just as raucous. No one thought to look twice at the orks and Duncan was glad of it. The curiosity of the people in Beauclair had been harmless but it still had made him nervous. He couldn't stop registering people's attention has potential aggression, the habit was too ingrained.

Here, no one paid them any mind, not any longer. So he was free to relax and enjoy the evening—the music, the food and the sight of Rhys getting a little drunk on wine. Duncan himself kept to heavily watered down wine after the first cup of admittedly excellent local vintage.

Rhys leaned into him, sitting sideways on the bench and nibbling on some cheese while chatting with Eskel. It turned out Rhys got cuddly when drunk, not that Duncan minded. But right now he actually had something else on his mind. So he gently picked Rhys up, turned him around and leaned him against Eskel.

"Hold that for me, please." Duncan grinned at Eskel while Rhys giggled happily and let himself be handed off.

Geralt was easy to spot in the crowd, taller than most and white-haired, and Duncan made a beeline for him. When Geralt turned away from the woman he had just talked to with a smile, Duncan took his hand and gave a tug that made Geralt take a quick step forward to avoid stumbling, right into Duncan's personal space.

"We're going dancing." Duncan kept his voice low and did not make it a question. He didn't give Geralt time to protest or find excuses, just pulled him onto the dance floor and down the length of it. Geralt was left to either follow or just get swept off his feet.

***

A half-cocked smile perked up on Eskel’s face as Rhys cuddled into his side. Throwing his arms around the snugly drunk, Eskel swung a leg out over the bench so he could pull Rhys’ back right up against his chest and rest his chin on Rhys’ shoulder. “Watch this.” Eskel nodded his head slightly toward where Duncan was stalking an unaware Geralt.

It took a moment for Rhys to see what was happening but when it hit him he giggled harder. “Oh yes. Wait. He’s going to assume _we_ put Duncan up to this.” Rhys craned his head to look at Eskel, before returning to watch as Geralt followed Duncan around the dance floor.

“Mmm. Won’ matter though. ‘S Duncan, he’ll let it slide. He likes Duncan draggin’ ‘im around an’ we both know it.” Eskel allowed himself a laugh at that because it was so _obviously_ true. “I’d take you dancin’ but honestly, I kinda like you here.” Eskel carefully snuck a kiss to the back of Rhys’ neck between his hairline and his ear. Settling his arms tightly around Rhys he rocked him with the beat of the music, swaying gently on the bench.

***

Adrenaline rushed in Geralt’s body as Duncan pulled him forward. Duncan’s little show of strength making his body tingle, and raising the hairs on his head like he’d touched a little ball of lightning. 

The music was loud and fast, and Geralt allowed Duncan to swing him around by one arm and his waist. 

Geralt let the world spin around him, not trying to focus on any one thing or track the movements with his eyes, even though he easily could have. Instead he focused on the grip of Duncan’s hand on his, strong and warm. The broad band of Duncan’s arm when it caught him and wrapped around his shoulder or waist. Geralt wanted to melt into him.

Trying to hold back a smile Geralt closed his eyes for a moment but it snuck onto his face anyway. Duncan’s body so close to his, ready to catch him at any moment made Geralt a little breathless, and not from the dancing.

***

Rhys leaned into Eskel and grabbed a bunch of grapes, feeding Eskel in between eating some himself. "He really does like it. And Duncan is only too happy to do him the favor."

"We can dance later. For now, I'm content to sit here and watch. Also, I'm a little drunk." He leaned his head back so he could kiss the side of Eskel's jaw. "Just hold me a bit." 

The musicians paused a moment for breath in between songs and to bow for their cheering audience. Duncan gave Geralt a sidelong glance. He enjoyed how easily Geralt followed his lead and wanted more of it. "Another dance?"

***

Though Geralt was loathe to admit it to himself, dancing with Duncan had been wonderful. It was freeing to just let go and have Duncan steer, simply knowing that Duncan would not let him stumble or crash into someone, and for a rare moment Geralt had been able to tune out his overactive senses. With a sly smile on his face Geralt looked up at Duncan. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming along on this lovely ride with us! We are already in the process of writing a second part for the orks and the witchers as well as several more one shots. Consider giving us a follow or check back here and we will post a link to the next part when we start publishing it!
> 
> Many thanks!  
~BBean


	10. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sequel to Orkish Delight, London Calling starts today! [Read it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363516/chapters/53426533)

The sequel to Orkish Delight, London Calling starts today! [Read it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363516/chapters/53426533)  
Will update every two weeks on Wednesdays.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Love/Consequences/Serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063999) by [BawdyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean)
  * [All the Things We Didn't Know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285984) by [BawdyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean)


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